


Gwaine, South of the Border -By rachelautumn

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Romance, Sex, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:32:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing his boyfriend to another man, all Arthur Pendragon wants to do is run and hide.  He runs all the way to Mexico, where he is kidnapped by an attractive bandit and learns that sometimes you have to lose to win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear OTP Merthur folks. This story is Arthur/Gwaine end game, but I imagine Arthur and Merlin may get back together one day. The text hints at this, but I don't want you to slog through and get sad, so be warned; it's just a hint. I've tweaked it a bit so that Merlin seems a little less callous.
> 
>  
> 
> My thanks to side_stepping for words of encouragement and to Dig for offering to do a "Feels beta" even though the draft was never ready in time! Big kisses for the moderators, especially Violet/Kimli who held my hand.
> 
> And garlands and Leis for the onceandfuturekimli who gave me all the sunsets; they're gorgeous!

"Well this is different," Arthur thought. His car was facing straight up a hill so steep his feet were higher than his bum. As he strained to see over the crest, he shifted his foot and slipped several inches backwards, towards the water. "But I wanted different," he reminded himself, heart in his mouth. "That's why I came to Seattle." 

Behind him, Mount Ranier rose over Lake Washington, round and wide like the head and shoulders of a man. It was a real presence, not one of a jagged row of teeth like the other mountains he'd seen. Apparently it didn't always come out, but it was here for Arthur's business visit and he felt a little lucky, a little honored. Seattle was just as lovely as Morgana promised, a great place to forget about Merlin.

Then he crested the hill and he cursed her name. There, right smack in his face, was a sign for Vancouver, the city where Merlin lived now with his new boyfriend. When she was singing Seattle's praises Morgana had failed to mention that it was in spitting distance of Vancouver. Knowing his sister, the lapse was intentional. She had wanted to be the liaison in Seattle, fought him for the assignment. And he'd thought he won. 

The joke was on him, as usual. This was the last time he would take in the scenery. How could he with the green and white sign of his failure always overhead?

On the highway to the airport, those signs for Vancouver flared up every 100 meters. They might as well have said Merlin. Each one pressed play on a recording he'd tried to forget, Merlin's voice breaking up with him.

"You never make time for me, Arthur," he heard as he passed Lake Union without seeing it, "I'm surprised you even noticed I was out with a man."

His eyes saw the Space Needle up ahead, and he thought of his father who had bought him a key fob souvenir of it once, when he'd started the venture in Seattle. But he didn't consider that rare token of affection for long. The Vancouver sign interrupted:

"You're never going to challenge your father are you, Arthur? You're never going to do the things we talked about."

And always, every sign reminded him of the worst thing, the last thing that Merlin said. That wasn't just a voice he heard, it was a cruel hand pinching a bruise, over and over.

"You're so controlling, Arthur, I can hardly breathe. Well now it's finally true. I'm in love with someone else. Are you satisfied? "

No, he was not satisfied. He was devastated. Thank God he had not had to see the other man, the Canadian guy. He'd just come home to find things: the wrong billfold, the wrong tie and finally the two plane tickets to Vancouver, both of them, in case Arthur missed the message, right on top of the tablet that Arthur wouldn't turn off.

So yes, Seattle was entirely the wrong place to forget about Merlin. All roads led back to him. And the water too because here was a sign for a boat to ...Vancouver. Arthur groaned. Even the green Pacific was just a ferry ride away from the place where Merlin went to live with someone else: this someone who was not so busy, this someone who was not so uptight, this someone who was not Arthur. 

And he was a fool because there was also a little hope that sprang up, every time he saw the sign. A part of him thought that if he just pushed a little harder, begged a little better, Merlin might be his again. Arthur had to force himself not to take exits marked Vancouver so many times he almost got whip lash.

In the end he just turned the car around and headed the other way. And that's how he ended up in Mexico. 

 

It was hot; it was dark and there was a din. A dozen yabbos screamed at the football match being broadcast right over Arthur's part of the counter. There was no way he could work here, but for once he didn't care. Arthur deleted his phone messages without even looking at them. Maybe if you had done that more often a year ago you wouldn't be alone now, a voice in the back of his head told him. Maybe you should go back home before your father fires you, another said.

He was in a dive bar just south of the border where he'd crawled in sometime past noon after driving all night. He hadn't realized that dive bars could be so colorful. The walls were pink and blue and hung with plaster donkeys, dolls and masks. He was even drinking tequila out of a little skull. It was insane, grotesque-perfect actually. For once the outside world mirrored what he had going on inside.

"God I really am in Mexico," he said, when the Mariachi band started up on top of the other noise.

"Actually, it's not very authentic this close to the border. This place is strictly for fleecing Gringos like us."

Arthur turned his head to see who had spoken and found himself face to face with a grinning blond girl. She was the first blond person other than himself he'd seen since California. "Hi I'm Elena," she said, reaching out over her tray. Her smile had something flirtatious in it now and despite his exhaustion, Arthur found himself responding a little. She wasn't bad looking. There were curves under that uniform.

"So, are you the one doing the fleecing?" He indicated her server's apron, complete with change pocket. 

"She shrugged, "I guess, in a way. So..." She pointed to the skull, "Can I get you any more tequila or do you want to find your way back to your hotel with all your money intact?"

Arthur laughed out loud, suddenly interested.

"I don't have one yet. Maybe you could show me a place, help a lost Englishman?" He cocked his head, hoping he looked charming and not like a zombie.

"All right." Elena gave him a frank looking over. "Since you're so far from home, but if I find out the accent's fake, no deal." 

Arthur was just laughing again, certain now that he was going to replace thinking about his heart with thinking about his dick for a few blessed hours, when he felt her attention shift. He followed her gaze up and found he couldn't blame her.

A man had walked into the bar, a man with a sure gait and a very taught body. He wasn't wearing anything revealing, ordinary jeans and a loose, open necked shirt, but you could tell he looked good naked. Hot, very hot. and natural with it, like he didn't just get his muscles from a gym.

Arthur hated the gym look. He liked people whose bodies spoke of the things that they liked to do. Merlin had been all long lines, his shoulders broadening in the winter when he played his goofy squash game, growing finer in the summer when he ran. And this man? Arthur yanked his attention back to the present. He had the ready, flexible gait of someone who was always moving: climbing, running, swimming. Arthur fancied he might even have done some time with a rapier. He wouldn't have looked out of place at Arthur's fencing club in London, actually. He was nut brown everywhere, but Arthur thought it was more likely a tan than his natural color, since his features weren't Mexican. He looked familiar, something about the long nose and dark hair ringing a bell. 

The man swept his eyes over Arthur and Elena, nodding when he met their eyes, as if to say, "Yes," I accept your interest and relish it". Then he stepped forward to the bar, digging into the waistband of his jeans to bring a small pistol onto the counter. 

Arthur's mouth went dry. He'd heard there was a lot of crime in Mexico and now there was a gun a few feet away. He tried to remember if he'd ever seen a gun so close; he didn't think so.

With the hand that wasn't on the gun, the man dug a square of slick cloth out of his back pocket, flicking it open with a flourish. It ballooned into a shopping bag with a yellow smiley face on it.

"Senores y Senoras," he said, smiling widely around the room as if he were mcing for an awards event rather than, apparently, robbing a dive bar. "Please place your cash and mobile phones in this bag. It goes to a good cause." The thief spoke in roughly accented English, then repeated himself, Arthur assumed, in Spanish all the while holding his smiley bag out to the customers at the bar like a trick-or-treater.

It was the first violent crime that Arthur had ever witnessed and it was nothing at all like what he had seen on television. He looked around him, trying to figure out from the other people in the bar if what he was seeing was real.

Nobody seemed to react much, apart from going quiet. Everyone just handed out their money, while the thief bowed and thanked them. Arthur had seen lash arounds at the office that were more unpleasant.

When he got to Arthur the trick-or-treat thief, as Arthur had begun to think of him stood so close Arthur could smell his sweat, see the white of his teeth. Feeling as if he were amputating a limb, he dropped his mobile into the open bag and was rewarded with an encouraging nod.

"Now the cash" the thief reminded him. As Arthur stood up to wriggle the money out of his pocket he found himself so close to the man his long brown hair drifted into Arthur's mouth. Instead of stepping back, the good looking bastard stepped forward, deeper into Arthur's space. "Let me get that, Blondie," he whispered in Arthur's ear. Arthur went half hard, feeling himself blush as quick fingers extracted his cash from his pocket. 

A moment later there was the unmistakable sound of a phone ringing. It came from the man working the register. The man was clearly nobody, just a round and greasy Mexican guy, but all eyes were riveted on him as he spoke rapid Spanish into the phone. Here was someone brave enough to try to stop what was happening.

The thief shot his pistol into the air. "Enough," he said, "Calla te. Be quiet or I will have to shoot this girl." To Arthur's horror he grabbed Elena and began dragging her with him out of the old bar.

Arthur was kicking himself. He couldn't believe he had been so busy thinking how attractive this man was that he hadn't tried to do anything to stop him. He, Arthur Pendragon had stood by, enjoying having that man's hands digging down his front, while some nonentity of a bartender took action. He could have phoned his sister from inside his pocket- he knew the buttons well enough, but he hadn't thought of it and now Elena was paying for his errant dick. Before he could talk himself out of it, he ducked under the robber's arm. He pushed Elena away with his hip,wincing as she fell hard. Then he threw his weight into the robbers body with one fist, while squeezing the guy's trigger finger as hard as he could with the other hand.

Arthur was strong and this guy didn't seem that big. With just a little help from some of the larger men in the bar, Arthur should have taken him easily, emptied the gun, called the police. But he hadn't slept much in the two days it had taken him to drive to this insane place, nor did any of the bulkier customers whose eyes he'd tried to meet, come to his aid. Instead, the robber shocked Arthur by dropping to his knees so that Arthur was thrown off balance. 

They froze there for a moment. The man had thrown himself back as he pulled the gun so that he was almost on elbows, looking up. The gun spun as Arthur watched, still trying to keep his own balance. By the time he regained control the guy was pointing the gun at Arthur's head.

"Any other heroes in here?'" the guy panted. "Bien" He said something in Spanish and then repeated. "I'm taking pretty boy here with me. Nobody talks to anybody or he's done."

Arthur wondered idly, as they inched out of the place, walking backwards into the sun, whether the cashier at the bar would be as interested in sparing the life of some guy he'd never seen, as opposed to the attractive bar maid, a fellow employee. The robber must have shared this concern. He reached into Arthur's pocket again and fished out his keys, waving them in the air so the BMW insignia could be seen clearly. "Rich Asshole American like this would make a huge stink if he died here. I know you don't want that kind of attention." 

The man behind the register snorted and nodded, although the thief hadn't translated this time. It looked like his economics tutor was right; brand names were a universal language. The last thing Arthur registered before receiving a sudden blow to the side of his head was the fat barkeep carrying on polishing the counter, as if he lost a customer like that every day. It was odd; he'd been so eager to stop the crime before.


	2. Chapter 2

When Arthur came to, it was dark. His head was pounding and also something was whipping at his eyes. It was his own hair he realized as he tried to sit up. He was sitting on the wrong side of his car with the windows down, letting in a snapping wind full of grit. God what was wrong with the driver?"

"Close the window, for crying out loud," he shouted above the wind, "It's raining stones in here and I can't see."

"I like the wind." The driver sounded completely unrepentant. Arthur was about to remind him who his employer was when it came crashing back to him. Of course, he wasn't in the company car driving to work. No, he was in Mexico somewhere because he was a cowardly idiot who was afraid of Canada. And this man wasn't a driver; he was a bandit- a bandit who had robbed Arthur and kidnapped him and could very well be on his way to killing him somewhere.

No, on second thought he would have killed him already if that was the plan. What the hell was this guy playing at? Arthur hazarded a glance over at his captor. He had turned on the radio and was crooning along to the guitar music, oblivious to the rough wind that was whipping his hair into a frenzy. Brilliant,, he'd been kidnapped by, a complete nutter.

A logical thief would have abandoned him somewhere once he'd blacked out, but obviously the guy was not logical. Would a logical thief rob a place with a smiley face bag? No. Would a logical thief smile and prance around and flirt with an entire roomful of people who could report him to the police? No. My God, hadn't anyone told this idiot that bandits wear masks? Probably he was so vain he didn't want to hide his face. Arthur snorted. The whole thing was ridiculous. Arthur felt for his fear as he might feel for a lost tooth. He wasn't afraid exactly, but he was nervous.

Was the bandit going to hold him for ransom? He had Arthur's phone with all his contacts; it was probably obvious he was wealthy. But in that case why was he transporting him so far and in such a conspicuous vehicle? A vehicle paid for by Arthur's company, who thought he was in Seattle. Thinking about the company, his father's company, Arthur's heart rate doubled.

He was already a day late getting in the reports for the deal he'd just completed. He was probably going to die, either when Zorro over there got piece of gravel in his eye and crashed or when his father refused to pay ransom for anyone who was such an idiot. 

"You know there's air conditioning on this model," he said, irritated at the man who had put him in the situation.

"I don't like air conditioning. Shrivels my nips." The guy didn't even look at him.

"The roaring wind is really not helping the huge headache you gave me, either"

"Sorry about that." This time, the guy did give him a squint, but made no move to close the window, reaching instead into his shirt pocket for a cigarette and lighter. Immediately smoke combined with the grit that was threatening to blind and choke Arthur by degrees. 

"I really don't appreciate people smoking in my car," Arthur said because the window thing was already a lost cause.

"Oh, I really don't like people telling me what to do." The obnoxious man exhaled into his direction on purpose this time. It succeeded at getting on his nerves. But at the same time it seemed familiar somehow. All of Arthur's friends were too civilized to do something like that, yet the same bell rang as before, when he'd first laid eyes on this man. Had he seen him somewhere before, a club perhaps? He looked like the type. And Arthur had been to many different clubs in many different places, a perk of business travel, at least before Merlin.

In Arthur's experience, once he could find a connection with someone, then the string could be plucked and he, Arthur, could get what he needed. In the ordinary run of things that was usually a business deal or a reservation. That had been the kind of entitlement that had annoyed Merlin he knew. But even Merlin would forgive him hoping that there was a connection here because if ever Arthur needed an in it was now, in butt fuck nowhere held prisoner by a guy who was demonstrably insane. If only Merlin was here. He would have thought it was funny.

Arthur pried gently, "This is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me, but I think there's something familiar about you."

"I doubt we run in the same circles." The man gave him an unmistakably disdainful glance.

"That's true." Arthur felt his ire pick up, "I don't run into a a lot of criminals." That got a little glare. Interesting. Did the trick-or-treat- thief not consider himself a criminal?

"And I don't like to hang out with spoilt knobs," the guy returned, "And yet here we are."

Yes there they were: on a dirt road, miles from nowhere and wanted by the law. Arthur snuck a look at his kidnapper. He remained very good looking in a long nosed, heavy-lidded kind of way that was not at all Latin American. If he was from around here, Arthur was an Eskimo

Suddenly Arthur was seized with the urge to rip off whatever persona this man was hiding behind and not just because he needed to know if he was dangerous, but also because he was maddening.

"You know you don't sound like a Spanish speaker." he pointed out, perhaps a little belligerently. "You sound Irish. When you're not faking an accent, that is."

To his surprise, he got a wide grin from the guy.

"Yeah, guilty as charged."

"What kind of Irish are you?" He thought the accent sounded Southern but he couldn't be sure. It was very attenuated.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

"It probably does to you. I've been told." 

"And you were listening? I must say I'm surprised. You don't seem like the listening type." Arthur thought he was going to let it go, but after a couple of beats the thief added. "I'm the kind of Irishman that isn't in Ireland, if you must know."

Inwardly Arthur groaned. It seemed the closer he got to finding out what was going on, the more he was being led around by the nose. It wasn't as if Arthur had asked to be kidnapped. All he'd confirmed with his little foray was that he couldn't keep up with a teasing Irishman, something he'd already learned with Merlin.

"Another fucking gorgeous one to boot," he muttered to himself

"What's that, Blondie?"

"I said, call me Arthur"

"I'm Gwaine." Gwaine treated Arthur to the roguish grin Arthur had begun to recognize as his trade mark.

"Well Gwaine, I don't suppose you might be able to tell me when you're going to quit this farce and give me back my liberty, my car and my phone. I'll let you keep the wallet for old times sake."

"Cheeky." Gwaine smirked, "But it's better for you if you don't know too much." Leaving one hand on the wheel, he rooted around in the dash for a while, grinning broader when he found Arthur's condom stash, the large variety pack he'd bought somewhere on the border.

"Well someone was optimistic," he chirped before reaching in again.

"Don't you think you should keep your eye on the road?" Arthur snapped. He had had hopes, as it happened: naff south- of -the- border tourist hopes of which he was ashamed.

Gwaine shrugged, "If we go off the side, I'll hear it. We're not going to run into anybody. There's nobody here for miles. Even the main highway gets deserted some stretches and I'm not going there."

Arthur's heart sank. So much for attracting the attention of somebody who could help him out. It sank again as Gwaine fished out, not his wallet, not his cell phone, but a pair of hand cuffs, grunting a little with the effort.

Something about Arthur's face must have pleased Gwaine. He gave a hearty, throaty laugh as he played with the cuffs, making a little metal lasso go whirring around Arthur's ear, so that Arthur had to slap him away.

"Look at that, our hero is a pouter." Gwaine said. And Arthur had nothing to say back. He knew once his face looked like that no amount of effort would budge it. Morgana and Merlin had remarked it often.


	3. Chapter 3

As night turned into day, Arthur had a chance to take in the scenery. At first he could see the ocean, but after a while it gave way to bitter green hills and valleys. The road was always tight and full of pot holes but sometimes it seemed to gear up for civilization only to stutter out into almost insurmountable bumps.

"What the hell is that?" Arthur asked as the car stopped with a screech the first time.

"Forgot about this one." Forward progress wasn't possible and they both piled out of the car. Gwaine was careful to take the key with him, as he got out, Arthur noticed, though he didn't use the handcuffs. Now he could see why they stopped. The road was blocked by giant logs of what looked like dirt and rubble. Gwaine kicked at them, covering the black of his boot in brown dust. "It's some topes, sort of homemade speed bumps. The people in the towns around here don't want hordes of people speeding through so they built these mounds into the road."

"Right." Arthur pointed to the one story buildings that seemed to be leaning together in the hopes of all fitting under the one tree that stood by the road. "Clearly this place couldn't use any more business."

"I think it compares pretty favorably with London on any given day." Gwaine said. He reached up into the tree and plucked something. "Here, catch."

It was an avocado. Arthur stared at the wrinkled grey thing in awe. It seemed to have come out of nowhere and it surprised him; it had been a long time since he'd experienced a simple, pleasant surprise.

They left the mountains behind them and and with them all glimpses of the ocean and Arthur began to feel desperately isolated. He had to assume Gwaine was holding him for ransom, but he had yet to speak on the phone or even express much curiosity about who Arthur's contacts were. Something did not add up. Arthur could only assume that it had something to do with Gwaine's other agenda, the one that had him robbing the bar to begin with. 

They seemed to have rejoined the paved highway. Arthur, who had not been a scout, was just able to guess from the sunrise earlier that they were headed South, but this new landscape was not the pleasant, touristed sea scape Arthur had thought he knew lay beneath California. Perhaps he'd been mistaken. It seemed he was mistaken about a lot these days, geography-wise. All around him it was barren, a parched land under a blue sky.

Just when he was resigned to dying here for the mundane reason that the stupid git who'd kidnapped him had forgotten to put in for gas and water, he spotted a low building on the side of the road. It was well kept up, and more upright than any place they'd seen in a while. Gwaine proved he was not entirely without sense by turning off into the square of dirt that appeared to serve the place for a parking lot

"Ah here we go." Gwaine winked at Arthur, picking up the handcuffs he'd removed earlier and swinging them back and forth a little. "It's time to make a pitt stop."

Arthur had never cared for dry, empty spaces, much preferring the tidy and the green. He liked it still less now, mincing along through the path behind Gwaine, trying not to step on the prickly underbrush in front of the road side restaurant Gwaine had stopped for. Arthur waved their connected arms.

"Don't you think they'll suspect something when they see the handcuffs? You're not exactly subtle there."

"They know me here." Gwaine paused a moment, "They like me here. So you stay on your best behavior, Princess." 

Arthur doubted he knew what the words, "best behavior" meant to a man like Gwaine, but he would certainly bide his time and wait for his chance to escape, if there was going to be one. He knew he couldn't assume anyone would try to help him. The one time they'd stopped before, to pee somewhere, a kid in a uniform had stuck his head in the window, claiming he had to search the car. When Arthur tried to shout, Gwaine just cracked a joke in Spanish and offered up the bagful of hershey kisses Arthur kept under the dash. The cop had left, unwrapping a little candy and throwing the foil behind him.

The little cantina was as tidy on the inside as it was out, with red tiles on the floor that made it seem cooler somehow. Despite being completely empty it smelled marvelous. There was obviously a grill with marinated meat dripping fat onto a fire somewhere out of sight. Arthur wondered if he would get any. There was no hope that he could make himself understood to ask for it. He felt oddly like a shy girl, obliged to eat whatever her date ordered for her. Arthur snorted. Best behavior indeed. What could he do?

They'd only been there a few minutes before an old woman came running up, fat and tiny in a tight black dress and heels. She seemed delighted to see Gwaine. She hugged him and kissed him, stepping on her toes to reach both cheeks, exclaiming in Spanish. Arthur didn't understand a word of it, but it seemed clear that she was on Gwaine's side. If the handcuffs fazed her she didn't show it. 

The avocado will still an ungainly lump in his jacket pocket. Arthur handed it to the lady because there was nothing else he could say. 

"For you, Abuelita," He repeated the name that Gwaine had called her. Her grimace of disapproval vanished and she smiled. 

"Gracias Guapo!"

Arthur checked to see if this contact had annoyed Gwaine, but if anything he looked pleased.

Abuelita seated them on banquets covered in leather and then ran into the kitchen calling out names. Soon a crowd came: two young men, a middle aged man, a young girl with a baby, all with the same doe-eyes and round cheeks. Everyone settled in the seats around them, pounding Gwaine on the back, setting out beers. They seemed like an ordinary family. Why would they be so comfortable with a man carrying a gun and holding someone in handcuffs?

Arthur looked at the man seated next to him, his right hand hooked to Arthur's left on the table, and his feet stretched out long under it, completely at home. 

"Are you married to that girl?" he asked. That might have explained it. Gwaine shook his head and laughed softly.

"That's not my baby," he said. "Luz is just a friend. She's a beautiful girl and a great cook like her gran." He leaned over to translate, pulling a little on the cuff as he gave her a little smack on the cheek.

Luz smiled shyly at Arthur and Arthur found himself a little grateful. Everyone else ignored him after one quick glance and some terse explanation from Gwaine that had them shaking their heads. Within minutes, Gwaine had the whole family laughing again in a way that reminded Arthur rather painfully of how little laughter there was at events where he met Uther and Morgana. He felt oddly left out. Apparently crime victim wasn't a starring role.

At least Dinner was good. The chicken he had smelled earlier made an appearance hidden under a tortilla and cheese; he practically groaned when he tasted the limey smokiness of it. He hadn't had a proper meal in days. He'd been living off of the hershey kisses Gwaine gave away.

His appreciation did not go unnoticed by the old woman who, pinched his cheek and shooed the girl away to get him seconds. This time the chicken appeared alone. It was a bit of a struggle to eat it; the handcuff clanked every time he used his knife.

"Hey, you need a little help there, Blondie?" Arthur grimaced. It was even more annoying somehow when Gwaine sounded solicitous, as if he were reasonable instead of someone who kidnapped people.

"I'm left handed," he muttered, holding up there joined hands. "You've bound up my good hand."

"You should have said something." Gwaine got up and unhooked him, switching places. When he sat down he was pressed flank to flank, closer even than the cuff demanded. Arthur could feel the heat of him through his jeans. 

Arthur ground his teeth. He did not want to be attracted to Gwaine. Who wanted someone who made them a victim? It was distasteful.

"Look," he tried, rattling his cuff, "This all doesn't make much sense. Why don't I just give you my sister's number and you can tell her how much to send?"

Gwaine tipped back in his chair. "No one's hopping to your orders here, Arthur." He let the chair slam back down again. "But I'll take the number." He winked

"Insolent bastard," Arthur muttered. To his surprise all of the men guffawed, including Gwaine.

It seemed lechery was a universal language as well as brand names. Luz clucked her tongue and deposited the baby on Gwaine's lap, rattling off something in Spanish that set the men laughing again as she walked to the loo. 

This close Arthur could smell the milky odor of the baby. It was no different from how the only other baby he knew smelled, the one that belonged to Gwen, his old girlfriend from Uni. Gwaine holding it reminded Arthur a little bit of himself. He looked bemused and a little fond, maybe not quite the indifferent bachelor he pretended.

Arthur watched as Gwaine dipped his finger in his beer and offered it for the baby to try. The baby leaned over and sucked greedily. When Luz came back Gwaine was just handing it the whole bottle. She gave a cry as the table laughed again and smacked Gwaine on the head.

Gwaine's eyes fluttered shut and he grinned and something came unmoored in Arthur. He knew that expression, had seen it a thousand times on other boy's faces, when their mothers nagged and hovered. He knew it had never visited his own face. It had something to do with being with people who needn't pause before they touched you, because whether it was a kiss or a smack, there would always be another touch.

For a long time he thought he'd had that with Merlin, but in the end, though he loved him, Merlin wasn't family. He'd had the right to go, had taken it. As for his sister and his father, they loved him he knew, but the pause was always there.

What did it say about Gwaine that he could let someone touch him like so far from home?

Alone with his thoughts, far from anyone who expected anything from him, Arthur admitted that there was something this feckless, wrong-headed person knew that he didn't and he wanted to know what it was.

Gwaine must have felt Arthur's eyes on him; he slid the beer over the table with his brow raised. Arthur took it, a little defiantly. Why not? He was here; he might as well enjoy himself. 

Gwaine smiled again, a different smile, but equally charming and he knew he was just as attracted to Gwaine as the first minute he reached his hand into Arthur's pocket, even though he was a bastard. He gave up trying to fight it, gave up desperately listening for place names in the buzz of voices around him in the hopes of finding a clue that he could slip to the police. He decided the kidnapping was probably going to end in an unpleasant but bloodless hand off somewhere down the line. He could worry about it later

He wondered, a little tipsy now, if he liked Gwaine did that mean he had something akin to Stockholm Syndrome? His father would have only the deepest scorn for someone like that, someone who couldn't keep track of who the enemy was. The derision he'd carefully kept from putting on Arthur when he came out would fall hard then. Arthur pictured his father saying, "Now I know you really are a pansy." He laughed out loud.

"You loosening up at last, Princess?" Gwaine asked. Was it Arthur's imagination or had his eyes lingered on Arthur's mouth? Arthur smiled again, despite himself and now he was sure of it, there was a flirtatious twinkle in the deep-set eyes. Then Gwaine whispered in his ear, "I think they like you. I told them you were a good sport. Now Granny is going to bring you out something special."

The pleasure when Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder then was embarrassing. The man was a complete arse. Calling him Princess was pretty much the definition of adding insult to injury. And yet Arthur was constantly staring at the open neck of his shirt and wondering what the necklace there was about and if it had made the skin under it taste bitter or not.

"It's OK" a voice interrupted Arthur's thoughts. It was Luz. Placing a gentle hand on his arm, she tilted her head toward Gwaine. It wasn't like Arthur didn't know where he was. His arm was stretched half-way across the table to give Gwaine move to maneuver. He was having a beer drinking contest with one of the older men, eyes locked on his opponent as his throat worked, hand behind him with Arthur. "He not going to hurt you, OK? Gwaine is a good man."

"Thanks," Arthur started to say. She shook her head and held her finger to her lips. Gwaine was sitting back down. Arthur sighed, resigned to remaining confused and frustrated. The girl had only confirmed what Arthur suspected already: Gwaine wasn't a murderer. Arthur believed in instincts, had always flattered himself that as an athlete in a combat sport he had good ones, and he hadn't felt the drain of adrenaline from being constantly afraid. On the other hand, every time he thought about facing his father at work, he got a good spurt. So yeah, he should be thinking of getting home. He should not be enjoying the press of Gwaine's thigh against his or looking forward to whatever Mama had cooked just for him, but he was. 

"You should smile more," Gwaine said, "You don't smile like a wanker." He nudged Arthur, translating over his head at the Mexican boys, who winked. One, Hector, Arthur thought his name was, rubbed Arthur's head, giving himself the giggles trying to say, "wanker". Then the granny came in carrying a plate of chocolate covered grasshoppers.

"Your face!" Gwaine chortled a few minutes later after Arthur had recovered himself and done what had to be done. "My God and then you ate one!"

"I'm always polite to people's grandmother's," Arthur said quietly, on his dignity. 

"Me too," Gwaine said, eating several more grasshoppers by the loud smacking mouthful, mostly, Arthur suspected, because it was annoying him. The old lady wiped tears of mirth with the back of her hand, chuckling to herself as she waved Luz back to the kitchen. 

She came back bearing a large plate of buttery cookies and coffee which Arthur ate with considerably more pleasure. Liquor followed. A guitar came out and Arthur was even able to join in on the last chorus of one of the longer songs after it repeated enough times. 

By one O'clock in the morning he even posed with Gwaine whilst Luz took a picture with her cell phone. They could almost have been friends at a party. After that, it didn't seem strange at all when Abuelita led them up stairs where they were to spend the night. He followed Gwaine, forced close by the handcuffs and tried to distract himself from the shapely arse so close to his face by keeping his eyes on the pretty blue tile risers on every stair.

The bedroom was a little garret. It was only the one room with one open window. The Grandmother looked at Gwaine who nodded briefly, leading Arthur in by the handcuff while the old lady clopped back down the stairs. There was only one bed, too and not a large one. Arthur didn't know where to look, a nervous heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

 

Gwaine had been teasing and physical all night, brushing against Arthur when he didn't need to, whispering in his ear. Arthur thought it was possible that Gwaine was attracted to him. Certainly he didn't seem like the kind of person who would balk at some quick pleasure in the middle of business. Was that what this was? Were they going to sleep together? Well obviously, but would something happen? Did he want something to happen? He looked at Gwaine for some hint of what was to come, but he merely shrugged, 

"I'm sure you're used to better, mate," he said, with only a hint of a sneer. Arthur could only shake his head, suddenly shy. If Gwaine was embarrassed he didn't show it, just kicked off his shoes. He tugged gently on the cuff to bring Arthur close enough to sit on the bed. Once they were side by side, he slipped the key out of his pocket and opened the cuff. If Arthur had hoped that this was the beginning of something between them, he was disappointed. 

Gwaine, usually so flirtatious, was now all business, hardly looking at Arthur as he opened the cuff. He did hold Arthur's wrist briefly, turning it over to check for abrasions. When he found none, he let go. And that was all. Perhaps he did not want to sully the business with sex after all. Or more likely he wasn't into men.

Gwaine let Arthur out of the handcuffs long enough for Arthur to use the toilet they'd seen down the hall, however it went right back on after Gwaine's turn. Arthur quirked a brow, but Gwaine shook his head.

"Sorry Blondie, you're the overachieving type and I don't want any trouble, not here, not with these people."

Arthur sighed and settled himself on the bed as best he could with one hand compromised. Lying so close to another male body, night air and the sounds of cicadas coming in through the window, it felt something like his many summers at sleep away camp. He'd lain in an unfamiliar narrow bed back then too, so near to all those other boys and yet so far removed, filled with longing that had nowhere to go. 

"So you ever going to let me go?" He didn't have to speak much above a whisper on the narrow bed; he might almost have been talking to himself. He could feel Gwaine's shoulders shrugging next to him.

"I told you it's better for you if I don't tell you what's happening. Don't worry about it. You'll be OK."

"Don't worry about it?" Arthur found himself trying to sit up, met resistance from the cuff and forced himself back down. "How am I not going to worry about it." he bit out, letting some of his frustration into his whisper. The shrug again. "I'm not afraid of you." Arthur added, quietly this time.

"And I hope I don't have to hurt you."

Arthur said nothing. Because he did not think that Gwaine would hurt him, but it seemed almost more dangerous to call him on it, as if he'd do it on a dare. So Arthur said nothing, though his thoughts got louder. I'm not afraid of you. I want to touch you, though, he thought. Do you want to touch me? Because sometimes I think you would.   
There was a long pause. Arthur listened to Gwaine's breathing, too deep and regular for him to be asleep, wondering if he had guessed Arthur's unspoken thoughts, figuring he probably had. And that his silence was the answer.

Arthur forced his own breath to remain even, taking in the distinct musky odor of the man next to him. He smelled like the day's sun and his particular sweat and cigarettes. They were so intimate, in the car and lying here like this and yet of course they were strangers. Arthur felt himself longing to explore the separation between them, to find out if they were miles apart or if, as he suspected, all it would take was his hand on Gwaine's chest and he could turn into that warm smell and bury himself in it. 

He was glad for the cuff then. The metal bracelet chafing at his wrist stopped him from imagining that Gwaine was someone he had picked up somewhere, that they'd driven till they got tired and collapsed at this little rural cantina, vowing to stay in a big resort with a kingsized bed next time

"You should be flattered,you know, that I keep the handcuff on" Gwaine spoke finally through the darkness.

"Why, does it suit me?" Arthur knew he was coming on. He didn't care. There was a snort in response, then.

"I thought you were one of those pretty tinsley types, at first. If you had been I would have taken it off."

"Tinsely?"

"You know, decorative, shiny, brittle, sheds on everything. I thought you jumped in at the bar because you were so used to a soft landing you didn't think you could get hurt."

Arthur huffed softly to himself. "I get up every day assuming there'll be some blows coming my way. I deal with it." he said, thinking of Merlin, thinking of standing outside of his father's office, of trying to hold his sister back that time she ran away on the high street, while she wrested herself out of his hands. 

"Yeah," Gwaine said quietly, long after Arthur had ceased expecting his response, "I know what you mean."


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning Arthur wanted very badly to shower and change. He said as much to Gwaine who just laughed at him, 

"Princess is back, I see" he'd said. Arthur was in a foul mood anyway because he had tried again to get Gwaine to tell him where they were going or what his plans for Arthur were and the stubborn berk had told him nothing except, "We're heading to the sea. You can dunk your head there."

Arthur wanted to shake him. It had been 3 days now. Three days leaving his company in the lurch, losing his father's respect, frightening his sister. He'd let it all go for a while, but all the things he had left behind had started a drum beat now. And reckless, carefree Gwaine didn't care. Jailhouse crow that he was wouldn't know responsibility if it bit him on the arse. Meanwhile, the less endangered Arthur felt, the less coerced, the more panic rose in his throat. He heard his father's voice. Did you really try, Arthur? Did you really do everything in your power to prevent this? 

Breakfast at least had been delicious. The best eggs Arthur had ever eaten and endless cups of rich sweet cafe con leche. There had been yeasty breads encrusted with bright sugar as well but Arthur resisted. He didn't get much exercise trapped in the hired car. Gwaine, he noticed bitterly, had two. Probably had a metabolism like a furnace. Just like Merlin. It figured.

It was just after breakfast, when Gwaine released the cuffs temporarily so he could have a slash, that Arthur saw his chance. Luz had left her mobile phone on the bar. It was nothing too fancy, but it would get through, he knew. Quickly, he pocketed it. Arthur looked around, saw every one else was busy. He turned his back on the family, hiding his hands from them, facing the loo.

He considered what message he could get to Morgana, probably the picture of him and Gwaine they had just taken, together with a text: He heard the toilet fulsh. There was no time now and he pocketed the phone. At last the drum beat quieted a bit. He had taken action. Once Morgana got the text, his father would know it wasn't his fault, at least, that he had failed to appear at work. Well apart from being in Mexico in the first place.

By the time Gwaine came back, the phone was hidden away in his inner coat pocket. He didn't put the handcuff back on as they walked to the car. Chances were good Arthur would have a chance to use the phone and Arthur felt nervous.

He'd expected to feel relieved that he had some control of this situation. Instead he felt guilty. Gwaine hadn't hurt him. But he did commit a crime, Arthur reminded himself. He had a gun; he hit Arthur over the head with it, threatened a young woman's life, robbed people of the money they needed for rent, for food. So what if he was magnetic and charming? Lots of sociopaths were like that.

But Arthur knew that the man who had whispered in the dark with Arthur was not a sociopath. And Luz knew him. She had told him Gwaine meant no harm. Privately, he resolved to warn Gwaine to run if he had the chance. And when, he wondered, did his allegiances shift so blindly away from himself? 

Arthur watched Gwaine side long as he drove. He wasn't used to the passenger seat. Generally he was either behind in the company car or if out with friends he preferred to drive himself. He'd even owned a pair of driving gloves for a while till Morgana and Merlin's ruthless teasing had finally gotten to him and he'd donated not only the gloves, but the convertible they came with to a charity.

Now watching Gwaine drive, he felt a sense of dislocation. Gwaine was a good driver, comfortable, effortlessly handling the radio control or his infernal cigarettes with one hand loose on the wheel. Gwaine's casual hand, pushing the knob of the gear lever, right at a level with his knee felt like a quiet conversation between their bodies, saying something different from their other talking altogether. 

Gwaine caught him staring and he blushed.

"You know you could keep an eye on the road," he said, repeating his usual complaint a little viciously. 

"It's not going anywhere, laddie." Gwaine's smirk was obvious in his voice, though Arthur refused to look at him.

"Just like me? he said. The look Gwaine shot him seemed to belong to another person than the laughing amateurish thief.

"Should I be watching you more closely?"

Yes. Arthur thought to himself. You should. Because only one of us can be the winner here and it has to be me.

Arthur was grateful for the reminder. He was supposed to be distracting Gwaine, not the other way around, getting his call in.

"I need to take a leak." he said. He would have a few minutes if he could turn away while he relieved himself, pressing buttons over the piss stream. It was practically what he did in real life anyway; he spent so much time on the phone. Probably Morgana would make some kind of joke to that effect if she knew. Won't stop texting to piss. Won't stop to get robbed in a dive bar. He tried to relax, imagining her voice Soon he would be back in his real life and all this drama would be behind him. He just had to do this one thing first.

Gwaine stopped the car and Arthur bunched his muscles, ready to run. Then Gwaine reached for the handcuffs. That wouldn't do.

"Do you think I could have a modicum of privacy?" Arthur made sure to keep his voice irritated, natural.

"Just making sure." Gwaine said, as calm as ever. It was frustrating how thorough he was. For someone who was such a goofy criminal and a flirt Gwaine was annoyingly competent at controlling a situation. Arthur found he did not have to fake his irritation any longer.

"There's nothing here for miles," he said, hearing his voice rise a bit. "What am I going to do, hail a taxi? Just give me a few minutes privacy. "

"Yeah alright Princess, I can see you're crossing your legs. Next time just remember to go potty before we leave, alright?" 

Gwaine stepped out of the car, swinging the handcuffs with one finger while staring at him. Arthur fought down the urge to pat the pocket with Luz's phone in it. There would only be one chance.

Arthur scanned the horizon looking for something to give him shelter or even something to relieve himself on. They were in sight of the ocean and the rest of the landscape seemed to defer to the promise of the bright stripe of blue, offering nothing besides a few tufts of scrub and the occasional cactus the size of a small tree. 

 

He chose one of those, crouching over in what he hoped looked like modesty. His hands were shaking. "Morgana" he typed with one hand, his wrist crossed over his dick to keep it all hidden. "Kidnapped Tijuana, go sea. OK" He hit send, shaking even more now the whole thing was over, wiping the sweat from his eyes with the same hand that slid the phone back in his pocket.

And then the thing rang.

Gwaine was on him so fast he hadn't seen him coming. He felt the ground rough and warm on his cheek as he went down, felt Gwaine's ragged breath and his elbow digging between the muscles on his back. He tried to buck up, to use his greater weight to knock him out for a bit, because that would be best if he could knock him out for a bit, and only returning the favor, really, but Gwaine wouldn't cooperate.

"I knew you were up to something, you snake." Gwaine hissed in his ear.

His hair and his hands were everywhere, hair blinding Arthur's eyes and catching in his teeth, hands patting and pinching his pockets, trying to suss out where the phone was hidden.

It had been a long time since Arthur wrestled. He'd gone into the sport once, as an early adolescent, but the fear of what he'd reveal in his tight uniform as he watched the other boys made him switch to a sport where there was always a sword's length between opponents. 

Now he wished he'd stayed a wrestler. 

Gwaine had a gun back in the car And some idea of where the fuck they were. Arthur had nothing but the promise of a police investigation some time in the probably near future. He hesitated for a moment, considering what would happen if he ended up at the wrong end of the gun or just alone in the desert without a car. That was the moment when Gwaine found the phone. 

With a cry between his teeth, Gwaine boxed his hand around the thing and just tore. For a moment Arthur was so shocked by the disrespect to the material, he froze. Gwaine too was frozen, looking down at what he'd won with something like horror and disgust.

"Jesus. It's Luz's phone." 

Arthur stared at him, his chest heaving, waiting to find out what Gwaine wanted to do to his prisoner now.

Gwaine wasn't looking at Arthur, though, just scrolling down the phone to see if he'd sent the message. Arthur could see the moment he realized he had. He glanced back towards the mountain and swore too quietly for Arthur to hear.

He had forgotten about the gun.

Arthur lunged back where he came from, feeling Gwaine's arms reach and fail. He was already sitting half in the passenger seat with the door ajar by the time Gwaine caught up to him, holding the gun. He pointed it at Gwaine. 

Gwaine's mobile face was closed now. "What do you want?"

Arthur knew what he was supposed to want. He was supposed to want to hold Gwaine at bay while he roared off in his own damn car. He wasn't doing that.

"A man with a gun in his hand should know what he wants," Gwaine drawled.

"Shut up." Arthur pointed the gun right at that insolent face. "I want you to tell me why you didn't just dump me outside that bar. I don't think you it's because you want to hold me for ransom. You must have a dozen phones in that stupid bag but you never made a call. So what do you need me for?" 

Gwaine pushed the gun away from his face.

"I have to say; I've been asking myself the same question."

Arthur pointed the gun back again, his hand shaking a little this time with frustration.

Gwaine shrugged. "Let me light a cigarette, will you?" He was already pulling it out of his pocket, leaning against the car as if the gun wasn't even there. "It was only going to be a few more hours you know. If you weren't such a pillock, no one had to be the worse for it."

Arthur had softened considerably over the time he spent with Gwaine, now he hated him again. The man had everything upside down, something that always drove Arthur loopy and had since he was 8 and Morgana told him how nice he was "for Opposite Day"

"So I'm the pillock, because using a girl as a human shield and kidnapping people is just stand up behaviour, is it? But calling for rescue is not something that nice people do."

Arthur looked down the barrel of the gun at Gwaine for emphasis. He was satisfied to see that Gwaine's posture was slightly tenser

"That about covers it, yes."

Gwaine looked up at Arthur, pushing the gun out his way again so that their eyes met. Arthur tried to ignore the part of him that liked this, maybe even liked the part that the rest of him hated, the lack of control.. "Look, It wasn't me who wanted to kidnap you. It was Jorge behind the bar, remember him? You called a lot of attention to yourself. And then you opened your wallet like an idiot, flashing all those Euros and pound notes. He was calling his guys right there to come for you. I had to get there first, didn't I?

"But I don't understand. The barkeep was the one helping me rescue Elena."

Gwaine shook his head and snorted.

"You didn't notice anything about how peaceful that robbery was? No of course you didn't."

He sneered at Arthur and it was the sneer from the first day, before they'd broken bread together and shared a bed.

"I know how people like you work. Maybe you pride yourself on not being as much of a prick as everyone thinks you are. I bet you secretly vote labor."

Arthur winced. He did vote labor and had never told his father.

"But it's all about you, isn't it? " Gwaine's voice was calmer now. "That's what happened when you first barged into the bar. You couldn't deny yourself the chance to be a hero, so naturally you didn't notice anything else that was going on."

It's not about me that I wanted to keep a nice girl from harm," Arthur pointed out.

There was a long smoky exhale.

"Elena is a nice girl, I'll give you that."

"Wait. You know Elena?" An instinct stirred somewhat too late in Arthur's gut. he remembered the barkeeps lack of surprise. He remembered Elena saying she fleeced the customers "In a way".

"Of course I know Elena," Gwaine growled. "So does Jorge. After I kidnapped Elena she was going to take the proceeds and bring them back to him. He has connections. In return he was going to help me cross the border But taking you would have been more profitable."

A lot of things facts Arthur didn't understand, fell into place. His cheeks flamed with humiliation.

"So actually, I didn't rescue Elena, you rescued me,"

"There you go, Princess, not as dumb as you look."

Arthur slumped back into himself, letting the gun fall to his side. He'd never thought of himself as naive, but it had truly never occurred to him that this entire misadventure was just a farce. 

"Oh. Wow that's corrupt." he said at last.

"This is Mexico, Blondie, it's a narcostate."

"Right I knew that." Gwaine raised his eyebrows, mocking again.

"Seems like you didn't because you took a nice little piece of theater where everyone knew what was going on and turned it into this mess."

Arthur winced. The gun had started to feel awfully heavy all of a sudden. He looked at Gwaine, rethinking him as someone who played several steps ahead, someone who had scrapped his own plans to rescue Arthur.

Gwaine accepted his scrutiny like one who has no guilt to bear. The way he leaned on the car made it seem comfortable, almost as if he was transferring all his discomfort to Arthur, sat on the upholstered seat, watching the smoke curling out of Gwaine's mouth and wishing he didn't look so desirable. But now Arthur knew better than to assume Gwaine was relaxed. Gwaine would turn fast as hell and grab this gun back if he had to. And his explanations just shot up another haze of questions.

"But why didn't you just tell me?"

"You seem to think we're friends and that I trust you." Gwaine looked straight in his eyes and Arthur wanted to tell him that he could have trusted him to listen and understand, but he really wasn't sure. "Let's just say I wanted to wait till I could find a place we were both safe."

"And I bollocksed that up."

"For me yeah."

"You said you needed Jorge to get over the border; are you in trouble here?"

Gwaine shrugged.

It was just a little stiffness in him, but Arthur had been watching that body with hopeful attention for too long to miss it. Gwaine didn't want him to poke about why Gwaine wanted to get out of Mexico. He was so tired of being manipulated and fooled. He'd just press on that a little

"You're trying to get back to Ireland?" he asked, polite in tone, but he leaned forward and covered his hand over the gun.

Sure enough, Gwaine's face darkened..

"That's none of your business, is it? And you can stop worrying your head about me. Did you give any thought to what would happen to Luz if you used her phone? These are good people who fed you and gave you a place to stay."

"What about them? I'm the one who ate at their place in handcufffs!"

Arthur had had a long and exhausting week. Emotionally it had been one endless train wreck and he was not ready to feel guilty for anything he'd done while kidnapped by this dickhead.

Gwaine ground out his cigarette on the hood of the car, smiling with satisfaction at Arthur's wince.

"You care about this car?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"I see no point in ruining it on a whim."

"Yeah, well you chose Luz's phone to call in your little SOS. And that whim might have cost her family everything. Guaranteed the police are going to pay her a visit. And once the police have your name like that, they own you. Even if no one goes to prison, and that's if, they'll charge protection money. The Garcia's can kiss that business goodbye. And they worked a lot harder for it than you did for that flash car."

Arthur remembered the bag of chocolate kisses. He wouldn't have thought that the Mexican police would use their information to track down prey like a pack of wolves, but then he wouldn't have thought they might be children stealing sweets either. He remembered the feel of the old woman's hard fingers, pinching his cheek, the family laughing and passing around the guitar, the food, the baby.

"She was half in love with you, you know, Luz." Gwaine said. Arthur thought of Luz's soft smile, her hand on his arm, her gentle warning. "Oh don't flatter yourself" Gwaine added, "It's just they don't get a lot of your type there. She fell for the blond cover of a romance novel."

Arthur watched Gwaine's chest rising, just a little harder than it had before. It was quite a heroic chest, he thought randomly, if one was going to talk about romance novels. Perhaps he'd been wrong about who was the hero in this particular story.

"Here." He said, "Take the gun. I don't know how this all even happened, but I'm sorry."

It was a mistake. 

The gun was tucked into the waistband of Gwaine's jeans almost before Arthur could let go, but Gwaine did not seem mollified. He stared at Arthur a minute. He licked his lips and Arthur immediately realized how dry his were. Gwaine advanced on him with the handcuffs, swinging, just like before. The annoying gesture took on a new, more sinister meaning

"You know I really should teach you a lesson." Gwaine said. He reached into the dash and pulled out a bottle of water, took a long sip. "I should really hook you up to that car and leave you out here to take your chances in the heat, waiting for that nice policeman you called." Arthur winced again and again Gwaine laughed. 

"But I won't. I'm just gonna walk out of here and pretend that we never met. Bye Blondie."

He dropped the cuffs on the ground and spun on his heel and left. 10 paces on he held up the phone.

"I'm keeping this. For Luz"

Arthur watched Gwaine go away from him. He was jogging now, like someone who needed to cover ground quickly, like a soldier, headed to the sea.

Fuck if the strangest thing that had ever happened to him didn't feel familiar, just another person walking away.

And once again he didn't really know why.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur ransacked the car. It was illogical, but he hoped that if he found out something about what kind of man Gwaine was he might also find out why he left. He found little evidence of what Gwaine was up to. There was a tank of water it turned out, in the boot that the Garcia's must have put in, along with the smiley face trick-or-treat bag. It didn't have any cash in it anymore, but everyone's mobile was still there, including Arthur's. 

In the front of the car he found a small canvas rucksack, hidden under the driver's seat. He fetched the thing out and pawed through it, hoping to find some evidence of drug smuggling, anything that might explain why Gwaine was eager to leave Mexico, what might be waiting for him . All he found were some very ratty underpants and a couple of photos of kids on the beach. 

Fuck.

The man was traveling with just the clothes on his back. Whatever the crime was about, these were not the belongings of a man who sold his soul for gain. Arthur wondered if the same could be said of him. He wasn't sure what he'd sold his soul for.

He knew what Morgana would say. It was something of a company joke; every year she suggested to the board that they divert some of the funds at Pendragon Corp and turn it into a foundation and every year the main players, including Arthur, voted it down.

"I'm going to vote for it one day, you know," he told her, "When the investors trust me personally and not Uther."

"Why?" Morgana had sounded bitter and amused, "It's a terrible idea. Foundations give away money instead of making it."

They'd been in the Botanic Garden and Arthur had almost thrown her into the carp pond.

"Oh I don't know, because someone I trust is always telling me only dragons like to hoard their wealth. I thought you wanted to save our souls."

"I'm not a do-gooder," Morgana had said, proving it by picking some of the public's lavender. "But it's not about the money. People who give away money are almost as bad as the ones who make it to begin with, worse because all they do is go to parties."

"So why do you want to do it?"

"I vote for the foundation so I won't be tempted to make the company my life." She looked up at him, as beautiful as ever, but Arthur remembered it as the first time he had ever thought she didn't look young. "I don't care about money, Arthur, but I like to win."

"So do I," In fact their croquet, table tennis and board room fights were legendary.

"Not as much as me." She moved on to stripping the roses she always claimed were ready to fall anyway. "When you think you can win, you're always afraid. Uther can get you to do anything just by hinting someone else might do it better. There's no room for anyone else in your life."

"I don't find that." At the time Arthur had actually enjoyed the contrast between his worldly world and Merlin's bookish life at the library where he worked. He'd thought Merlin liked it too.

"You will." 

"Come on Morgs," She had seemed so silly to him then, self dramatizing.

"When you're younger and you've just been to Uni together and everyone has more time, it doesn't matter what people do, but later not many people are open anymore. You'll see."

He'd helped her assemble the bouquet she'd stolen from the tax payers, because she had won again.

"I don't get it." he'd said, "Why bother with your proposal every year?"

"Oh," she'd shrugged, "I'm just trying to make sure the mantle gets passed on to someone else."

"You mean me." He'd gotten angry, he recalled now. "How's that working for you, then Morgana?" he'd said, well aware that she was lonely. "Now that you've made sure you're not winning, have you found The One?"

They hadn't spoken for weeks

It turned out that she was right in the end. Trying to impress his father, Arthur had easily lost track of just about everything else, including Merlin. That didn't mean he was going to give it all up. Despite this cock up in Seattle, Arthur was set to be the head of Pendragon Inc some day and he was going to things, once he could set the agenda, that were better than what they had now. But that was the future. Meanwhile, there was something he could do to help Luz's family if Morgana would listen. Arthur found his phone and turned it on, praying there would still be some charge left. 

His hand froze over the keyboard. If he dialed now, he would be that much faster to stop the wheels of whatever investigation the Pendragons were capable of putting on. That would help Luz. Or he could have this conversation in front of Gwaine and show him that Arthur was worthy of trust.

A voice that sounded like Merlin's said:

"And maybe he might feel more inclined to talk to you if you weren't holding a gun to his head."

But Arthur had tried just the opposite. And found that only the gun kept Gwaine at his side.

He grabbed an extra bottle and some beef jerkey from the car, excuses for running after Gwaine. The rest of the car and the supplies they carried, he abandoned to their fate.

* * *

He found him throwing stones in the ocean, fierce and far. He looked like he meant to be standing there for some time. So not running away yet. Maybe, Arthur thought, heart surging a little bit, he might even be waiting for Arthur.

"Gwaine! Arthur felt the awkward lurch from running on dry sand give way to his own true stride, closing the distance. Gwaine stilled, just far enough away that Arthur could see his shirt shifting shape in the wind, but not the wrinkles in the fabric.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." He turned around, "It's like I can't get rid of you. Look you called. It's over. Just let me go."

"Gwaine," he panted, "I thought you might need something to eat." He thrust the jerky forward. Gwaine just stared at it. "Right I can't afford...I'm not allowed to just disappear like this, but you left me everything; I think can make sure no one presses charges." Arthur was next to him now, panting.

"You can make sure no one presses charges. Listen to you." The stones shot into teal waves, one, two, three. Arthur shouted to be heard over the surf.

"I can. I want to do it right here, so you know." The stones continued to drop in the ocean. Arthur raised his voice another notch. "You should have told me. You should have known I wouldn't have wanted anything to happen to those people."

"Well then you'll be glad to hear," Gwaine paused from his throwing for a minute to turn closer to Arthur, "Nothing's going to happen to them because I know someone at the Casino not too far from here, a big resort in Baja. He knows all the police detectives- gives them suites at the hotel. I called him, told him to watch out for Luz and her family." He turned back to the sea, tossing the biggest rock the size of his fist, so hard he grunted, "They'll be fine."

"So you know big shot hoteliers but you have to rob bars to make cash?" 

Gwaine stopped throwing stones to stare at Arthur. He laughed, not without some real amusement,

"Ever heard of social capital?" Arthur had, obviously, but the fact that Gwaine had as well was interesting. 

He seemed to have regained his sense of humor. The latest rock never made its way across the waves. Instead Gwaine was catching it over and over, in one hand looking at Arthur. "I suppose I could tolerate your company for a little longer. You do owe me a ride. "

Arthur shook his head. It was still backwards day, but he refrained from pointing out that he hadn't started this. It wouldn't go down well with Gwaine, he suspected.

"Do I get to know where we're going this time?"

"We're going where I was taking you anyway. There's this surfing camp where I worked, about 20 miles from here. There are people there who can help you do what you need. Plus they have a boat and access to other things." He lobbed the stone to Arthur, who caught it. "All right, then let's go. Maybe we might be in time to get a set in."

Arthur could only swallow dumbly and follow him back.

They were back in the car. It was the same place it had been before, a prison and an escape vehicle in one. It also stank of salt water and cigarettes which it hadn't before, but Arthur found he didn't mind too terribly. Now that he finally knew who Gwaine was, or at least who he wasn't, the escape side of the things seemed to dominate and he found most of his resentment disappearing. In its place he felt an odd sense of shame and frustration, like someone who has been tricked into pissing on a saran wrapped toilet. Arthur had spent enough years in all boys schools to know what that face looked like, but it had never been him before who had no clue what was going on.

"I'm sorry I caused you trouble." he ventured. He was also irritated and nervous but whatever.

"Pretty blonds expect special treatment. We all know that." Gwaine flashed Arthur his old rogue grin, but Arthur refused to be deflected.

"Look Why didn't you take me to the airport if I was such a liablity. Or let me drive to the embassy? Or at least hint about what your intentions were, for fuck's sake. I would have understood." Gwaine looked pained, but this time he did answer. 

"Thing is, I had to get back home and I'm on the shit list with the border control people. That's why I needed Jorge to begin with. Couldn't risk you alerting people about me either. That's why I had to keep you under wraps until we got to a safe place. Telling you where I was going wasn't in the cards, sorry."

Arthur looked at Gwaine sharply. He didn't look like a drug dealer, or rather he did, but his eyes and his complexion were clear.

"I'm not even going to ask what you did to offend every policeman in Tijuana"

"It was only two or three. Maybe four. Okay, at least four" Gwaine ducked his head, in a little show of modesty. He didn't even try to hide the smile underneath, though.

"How is it even possible to offend some of the police but not all?"

"It was personal." 

Arthur just stared at him. "Who are you?" he asked finally.

For the first time, Arthur felt that he had Gwaine's complete attention. The heavy lidded eyes opened wider and Arthur could see how direct they were, assessing him, seeing him, but also being seen. Arthur wondered who passed muster. Then Gwaine gave an easy shrug and the moment was over.

"I'm Irish like you guessed. A lot of things happened in my life that I'm not going to talk about, but let's just say while you've been accumulating degrees and three piece suits I've been traveling." Arthur didn't respond to the jibe and Gwaine backed off a little, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "I came to Mexico with a girl I liked. She left and I stayed. I taught surfing for a while, then English to the people who wanted to travel to California."

"What kind of people are those?" 

"Migrant workers, wives, models, drug dealers, exotic dancers, school marms, just about everyone, I guess." Gwaine's eyes had softened a little and his mouth quirked up.

"Happy memories?" Arthur couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone.

"You could say. It varied." 

"I'll just bet it did." Arthur was tired and peeved and jealous and he couldn't help it anymore. "You were fucking all of them weren't you?"

"Well not everyone, but I made a lot of friends." Gwaine was all grins, happy to take credit for his stupid lifestyle choices, the net result of which was that Arthur had been kidnapped and handcuffed and would probably be disowned soon.

"So let me guess, some of the ones that were more than friends had husbands in- oh I don't know- the policing business, perhaps the drug cartels as well?"

"You got it in one. Seems like you might have earned those degrees after all."

"Oh shut up and give me my phone."

Gwaine looked worried for the first time. "Who are you going to call?"

"My sister." 

"I already contacted her from Luz's phone, told her it was a joke, to be honest. Now it's best if we let it go. I don't want that phone on again, it could be traced."

Arthur felt a stab of guilt. "You don't know my family. They're not going to accept a message from Luz's phone. They know I wouldn't lightly abandon mine. Someone's going to follow up on this and follow hard. And if you're in as much shit as you told me with the police that won't be good for you. 

"Shite." Gwaine pounded the steering wheel. Then he shook himself and shrugged. "Right. Well que sera sera." He fished in his pocket for a cigarette and lighter. 

Arthur contemplated the version of events he was going to share with Morgana. There was no scenario in which he came off looking very good. As for Gwaine, he had no idea how to even mention his name without incriminating him, because, damn it, he was a criminal. For the first time he wondered whether Gwaine had another side to his story, some extenuating circumstance that had pushed him to rob a bar.

"Why were you in such a hurry to leave Mexico, anyway?"

"Why do you ask?." Arthur could already tell from the set of Gwaine's shoulders that he wasn't going to say.

"I thought it might make you come off better if you had a reason. If I have to explain."

"Sorry, you're going to just take things as they are for once."

Arthur didn't point out that half of a story was not how things were. He'd dealt with stubborn people all his life-knew when he was beat, but bloody hell if Gwaine wasn't worse than Uther and Merlin and Morgana and even Arthur himself. The man would probably rather die than expose a secret. A dreadful thought curdled in his stomach.

"You used your get out of jail free card didn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"The hotel people, when you asked them to help Luz, you called in a favor. Now you won't be able to use the connection if the police take you."

Gwaine's smile didn't quite make it this time. "I'm going to get the boat with the girls at the surfing camp. Border control leave them alone. It'll just take longer that's all.

And what was that time going to cost him? Arthur knew better than to ask.  
It would be so easy to pretend he didn't know that it mattered. Probably before this whole lesson in his own stupidity began, he would have, but he knew that in his own way Gwaine was an honorable man, who had risked his own life for Arthur's, thrown away his chances in order to protect people who couldn't help themselves. If he could take responsibility, so could Arthur

"I'm going to fix this." Arthur saw the eye roll.

"Please, what can you do?"

"Wait and find out. I need you to stop the car so I can concentrate" 

Gwaine shrugged and braked. Arthur could tell his words didn't mean much to him. He didn't know what Arthur was offering. By now his sister and father had begun an investigation that would light up the entire map of power, official and unofficial in the state of Mexico. A casual request on his part wouldn't halt that he knew. As long as he played the victim, the Pendragon family was going to prosecute. His request to halt it would be ignored for his own good, as his requests always were. He had to tell them something else. And he knew just the thing.

Of course it meant throwing his life away, potentially. Arthur looked at Gwaine, noticing for the first time how open his shoulders always were, even now. Here was someone who ducked from absolutely nothing.

Arthur thought of some movie he'd seen once, where an American kid ended up in a Turkish prison for some paltry crime. That had almost happened to Gwaine because of him, because of Arthur. If he didn't stop this now that could happen to Gwaine. He might languish in prison and never kiss anyone's grandmother, or drink beer with friends or make love with someone he shouldn't again-all because he'd stopped for Arthur. 

Well that wasn't going to happen. Regardless of what the law said, this man deserved the courage that Arthur had always known lived behind his own breast bone, waiting for the time he found someone who would call it. Fuck it. That was now. This was someone's life. What was his father's money and his father's respect in comparison?

Arthur's hand shook as he dialed, "Morgana?"

"Arthur, Christ, where are you. Are you OK?" Arthur had never heard Morgana sound so flustered before. He felt touched even as he prepared for a rapid reversal.

"Breathe deep, Morgs I'm fine. Just came to my senses that's all." 

Whatever Morgana replied was too loud for Arthur to hold it to his ear. All that blared out clearly was "Who the hell is that man in the picture, Arthur? And who is Luz Garcia?" Then there were a few choice insults. Gwaine snickered, eyebrows up.

"Look Morgana, that guy's a friend. Luz is a friend. The whole thing was a joke just like she said." Arthur tightened his hand on the phone; he was sweating.

"Don't expect me to buy that." Arthur winced. Her hysteria was shifting from concern to anger now. "It's bollocks Arthur. After what you've pulled, don't you think you owe me the truth?" Arthur's heart sank a bit at that last. It was rare that Morgana gave him the chance to share with her like that, but he owed Luz and Gwaineto keep lying.

It was hard to talk. Arthur tried to keep up with her anger, tried to keep his voice steady and friendly, but as she grew more frustrated and shrill it became harder. Then he hardly listened as she wound herself up.

"Just put Uther on the line."

There was a long pause. No doubt Morgana was filling Uther in on his rash act.   
So this was it. Arthur felt the blood leave his face till his lips were numb, but he managed to calm his voice. Gwaine noticed something though. He looked up when Arthur spoke.

"Father?"

"Arthur, what's the situation. Do we need to send someone over there?" his father sounded impatient, no doubt starting his inquiry at the top of a flow chart. There had been a moment of concern, earlier, he was sure, but it was sunk beneath the waves now.

"No, Father. I have a confession to make."

"Oh?"

"I'm sorry it had to be like this."

"Just get on with it, Arthur. You've cost us all enough time and worry as it is."

"Fine" Arthur looked at Gwaine. He was cleaning out his nails with a penknife, not pretending not to listen. Good. "After I closed the deal in Seattle I drove to Mexico and created a situation to force your attention."

Gwaine halted his movements. Arthur had his attention, at least. There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"Does this have something to do with that boy you were seeing, Arthur?" His father's killer instinct was right on as usual. "He ended up in Vancouver, didn't he?"

"Not at all" Arthur lied, ignoring for now that his father called Merlin "that boy". "I have simply chosen to put myself outside of your sphere of influence because otherwise you won't listen to me."

"You mean to say you went and got yourself kidnapped in a puerile attempt to annoy me? You're almost 30, Arthur, not a teenager. You do realize your sister has been working around the clock to clean up your stupid mess?" 

"Tell her I'm sorry. The kidnapping thing was just an improvisation. Perhaps it went a bit too far. I didn't mean you to take it seriously"

"An improvisation." The tone was heavily sarcastic. Arthur found himself using the silence after to lock eyes with Gwaine. He wondered if the reckless fool knew what Arthur was putting on the line for him. From the intent look he got, knife forgotten on his lap, it would appear that he did.

"Yes, I find I can't gain your ear by doing what you want, so I have done what you don't want."

"Is this about the off shore accounts? And the government outreach proposals and the half dozen other airy fairy ideas you try every quarter? "

Arthur found himself buying his own fiction. Yes, yes it was. It was about working harder than necessary to prove what his father would never believe any way. He had lost so much; friends, his weekend rugby games. He'd lost Merlin, but in return he never got any control. 

"Yes, it's those things. And to be honest I just need a vacation. So that I can think, father. It's more effective in the end" Merlin had said that, often. It earned a thumbs up from Gwaine. Of course it did. Casual. like he had suggested pizza over Thai.

"Well why don't we call this little fiasco that vacation, then, Arthur? And we'll put it behind us. Can't speak for Morgana, though." And the bastard actually laughed. Arthur found the heat returned to his face all at once with his anger,

"No, I don't want to just call this a vacation. This is a bid for control and I want you to treat it as such..."

"I find it very ugly, Arthur," his father interrupted, "That you should play on my feelings in such a vulgar way. It's selfish, is what it is. You can always make an ultimatum from London without working your poor sister to the bone. Not to mention your staff you always claim to be so worried about."

Arthur felt a worm of shame in his gut. He agreed actually. To silence the discomfort, he told another truth.

"I couldn't have done it. To your face, I mean. I would have just given in like I always do. You needed to be angry at me already. And then there was nothing to lose."

"Arthur," His father's tone was cold. Arthur could picture him in his office chair, body erect, eyes still. "You have a great deal to lose. In addition to my respect, you can lose your place at this company and the funds I control in trust." 

Ah. So this was it. Arthur had always wondered whether his father considered him bought and paid for. Well now it was clear And with the release of energy that knowing the answer gave him, even though it was the wrong one, he saw his opening and seized it.

"Are you holding my patrimony over my head? It's good to know the real cost of things. Well hear me now. You can fire me But you cannot buy my respect. And if I go back, you will never have the value of my real opinion. So you need to either hear my out on company policy or throw me out the door because what we've had isn't working for anyone."

He was breathing heavily now, but the weight on his chest was gone. For the first time he understood why people burned 100 pound notes. And wasn't that what he was doing now, really?.

"And you need to tell me now. Because if I am selling my flat to get the funds to start up in another hemisphere I'll need to know as soon as possible, Don't you think?"

To his surprise his father started to laugh.

"You know I never thought I would say this, Arthur but you remind me of my old man. He was a hard-bitten bastard."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means I'll give you a meeting like I would anyone else." Arthur let that sink in. Then he pushed.

"And the vacation? I"ll need two more days here"

"Really, Arthur? Are you trying to meet someone?" Now Arthur was blushing. He saw Gwaine waving his hand in front of his face, with three fingers up" He batted hem away. 

"Actually make it three."

"Fine. I'll see you then...And Arthur?"

"Yes, Father?"

"I'm sure I can count on you to vote down Morgana's little proposition again."

"Of course."

The conversation was over. A conversation he never thought he could have. He had won concessions from his father he would never have dreamed possible. He had faced down his ultimate fear and come out on top. And the diversionary tactic had been completely successful he was sure. No one at by the name of Pendragon was even going to think about Mexico for years to come. He felt...Elation. 

Arthur let out a whoop he didn't even know was coming. He dragged a laughing Gwaine with him out of the car. Without even pausing to breathe he fought through the underbrush and threw himself fully clothed into the sea. Fucking suit be damned!

When he looked behind him Gwaine had already followed. He should have known the guy wouldn't miss a chance to do something stupid like swimming with his clothes on. Grinning big, Gwaine aimed his body at Arthur's head, but this was Arthur's day. And it was Opposite Day and that meant that everything was grand. He got there first and dunked Gwaine under till his hair was completely sopped. He came up sputtering but still smiling.

"So how much money did you throw up in the air there, Princess?"

"Do you mean what I have in trust, my personal salary or the value of the company I stood to inherit?"

"Let's say the whole thing, how many zeroes?" Arthur made a rapid calculation. "Something like 9, I believe." Gwaine whistled. "You've got cajones, my friend, steel bollocks. I know you did it to stop them looking into me here. Thanks." 

Neither of them mentioned where Arthur was going to spend his remaining 3 vacation days.


	6. Chapter 6

The Surfer camp was more like a house, surprisingly suburban for all the mess of boards and gear everywhere. There was a large common room that looked out onto rough surf below and an open plan kitchen with a sink full of mugs but no other clutter. The potholders and the small appliances were all a matching red. It reminded Arthur oddly of his sister's flat during her Uni years.

He soon found out why as the back door opened and they were surrounded by a horde of women, all youngish, all beach clad but otherwise every shape and size. Arthur smiled professionally, unsure who to apologize to for barging in. Amid the high pitched buzz he discerned Gwaine's low toned whisper. He was talking to a blonde woman in cut offs and bikini top. Despite her figure and her clothes she looked older than everyone else, maybe in her forties. The face that met Arthur's as they shook hands was frank and sunworn.

"Hi, I'm Roxanne," she said in a husky, American voice, "If you're a friend of this scallywag's you're a friend of mine. Welcome to Surfwoman. Make yourself at home."

Arthur found himself perched on the edge of a window seat, feeling unchivalrous as various female persons wandered around with no place to sit. He had never been with so many women in one room before. A few seemed to agree with him that his presence was intrusive. They'd glared and started on making dinner. Among the rest there were different reactions: some stared openly, some subtly. More than one stood close enough that he had to smell her sunblock, a hand on his knee or shoulder until someone pushier took a turn. Gwaine, he saw had shamelessly commandeered an entire sofa, but the same number of people were clustered there on his lap, more or less, as it would normally have seated. Arthur remembered that Gwaine had only mentioned being with girls before and cursed himself for making up stories from a few flirtatious nicknames and some bold frisking.

A hand on his shoulder behind him made him jump.

"Oh I'm sorry, honey" Roxanne's concern sounded genuine. "You know I think it wouldn't be so bad if it was just one of you, but two good looking men appearing out of nowhere like this, it just seems like maybe there might be enough to go around."

"I'm sorry,too" Arthur relaxed a little, "I work with numbers and I have to tell you that doesn't compute." 

She laughed. "They'll sort it out. Women living together like this won't fight for one night of fun. At least I'm assuming you're staying just the one?"

Gwaine came up then, having shaken off someone with pale hair and silver bracelets.

"I think it's just a night, Roxanne. Actually I was going to ask your advice. Is there some place we can talk?"

She met them in her office. It was a converted shack back behind the house where a mango tree leant some welcome shade. She poured them tequila, "It's the good kind, Gwaine, so don't guzzle" and took their story in, laughing a rough rumble that was over almost before it started.

"Well I think I have good news for you. There's a new manager out on the island." She nodded her head at some point over the horizon. "He's pulling in a high class of customer at the resort over there. Word is, anyone who takes the private plane to LA doesn't pass any real security. You just have to dress the part." She turned to Arthur. "Did you bring two suits with you by any chance?"

"Damn it all, I did, but I just ruined one." Arthur mourned his memory of abandoning himself to the sea; it was already tainted as a Very Bad Idea.

"Not to worry. I know they do more than resort wear there. You can get things dry cleaned and tailored, even new if necessary. You have to be a guest, though or they won't hurry for you." Roxanne bit her lip, sun wrinkled eyes frowning a little, " Can you guys scrape up the cash for that?" Arthur could tell she was preparing herself to offer, even though her business probably ran on a shoe string.

"Now don't you worry, Roxie, Arthur can take care of it." Gwaine clapped his arm around Arthur's shoulder, assuming correctly that Arthur would give whatever it took to keep everyone safe. That assumption made him prouder than he wanted to admit.

"Oh good" She smiled the brilliant smile of the enthusiast. Arthur thought he caught a glimpse of the passion that led her to create a place to share what she loved, before the care of actually being in charge dimmed it a bit. Arthur was glad his wealth had bought that moment at least. He envied her actually. She was doing what she loved and it drove people to her instead of chasing them away.

He tried not to think about what all the arrangements meant that they were making. That he was going home, that this thing, whatever it was with Gwaine was going to be over.

Dinner was pleasant and simple. They ate out on the deck. Corn on the cob, chile and salad. The group that had made dinner wasn't particularly stroppy, after all. Arthur found he quite liked the one, Marisa, he sat next to, who was usually a computer programmer and had decided to learn to surf when her engagement ended unexpectedly. 

On his other side, the girl was charming. Ellen was a mess of 18 year old contradictions: outspoken and athletic, but shy. She smiled a lot but hid it under wiry, dark hair. Arthur found himself quite taken with her, a fact that hadn't escaped Gwaine, who gave them several wolfish smiles. Arthur wanted to hit him, especially as he was playing a shameless game of footsie with the girl with all the bangles, as if he was 18 himself, less even.

That night Arthur slept on the couch where Gwaine had held court that day. It was not a place to seduce anyone, he told himself. Even the sound of the waves was just a reminder that there were windows and eyes everywhere. Not that Gwaine seemed the type to care. He tried not to imagine where he might be. Not looking for Arthur obviously. There was no gun now, or handcuffs. They didn't need to buy Gwaine a suit till tomorrow. Gwaine could have sought him out just for himself if he had wanted to. And he hadn't.

The next day, Roxanne saw them out to the dock where they would take the camp boat to the island, but she didn't have time to take them herself . A new crowd of surfers was coming in that afternoon. She didn't pretend not to be relieved when Arthur assured her he could steer the thing. He didn't care for sailing or yachting, actually, but had spent enough time trapped at other people's summer whatevers to know how to manage even larger craft. Gwaine watched him as he pulled ropes and shifted ballast. 

"You look good doing real work, Princess."

"If I get enough calluses will you stop calling me that?"

They were flirting, after all. It was an open sky and a free day, with just a little danger and a hotel room at the end of it. He felt good. Hopes he'd had buried since Tiujuana and some from before that buoyed up again.

"Think you can help pull up these ropes?"

"Toff needs help. I should have known."

"I don't know if you can, all that smoking, not good for the stamina"

"Oi I can take you on, Princess."

The brush of Gwaine's body behind him, just slightly too close, left him sure the double entendre had been intentional, well almost sure. Unless it was a tease. Arthur was looking forward to a short sail and a lovely dinner where he planned to explore that question and change the answer if he had to, if it was possible. Right now anything seemed possible.

Just as they prepared to cast off, two girls came running up. It was the pushy silvery blond with the bracelets and with her, running faster but less eagerly, not looking up was Ellen. They were both carrying bags. Arthur suppressed a groan of disappointment. He wondered if Gwaine had already slept with the blond one, Mona. He had no doubt what her intentions were anyway and that the choice of Ellen was not accidental. His day of freedom with Gwaine had turned into a double date.

"Roxanne said she needed someone to take the boat back." Mona's smile was blinding.

"And she sent you?" Arthur didn't hide his skepticism.

Mona shrugged. "I know my way around a boat. Ellen agreed to keep me company."

"That's right, Arthur" Gwaine grabbed each girl in turn and heaved them into the boat. He kissed them on the cheeks, thrice and Arthur forced himself not to wince. He hated it when men used the continental kiss as an excuse to flirt. 

"Find the manual for this thing, could you Gwaine?" he barked out. Gwaine cocked his head, an arm around each girl.

"Aye aye Captain." He smirked and winked. It could have meant anything. Arthur revised his expectations downwards.

 

* * *

The resort was a different universe to the rest of Mexico he'd seen so far. It was, actually, a lot more like what Arthur was used to, a lot of glass and steel and bits of garden planted around the interior in order to induce a sense of calm. It had the opposite effect on him, reminding him of all the work waiting for him. And since when did air conditioning feel like a vise around his lungs?

Gwaine looked as much at home here as anyone else. He helped himself to the champagne that was wheeling around on trays in the open cavern of a lobby, handing it out with a bow to the girls and Arthur himself. Mona locked eyes with him while she downed hers and Gwaine laughed. Arthur and Ellen exchanged tight smiles. 

"Let's get to business, shall we?" Arthur pointed to the little shopping street that stretched out from the lobby, palms on either side but dotted with the same designer goods he could have bought in London, or New York or anywhere else he didn't want to be.

"You need to go shopping? Wouldn't you rather check out the pool?" Ellen asked. Arthur caught Gwaine's eye. Apparently no one had enlightened the girls about why they were there.

"I don't have what I need." It was the truth, let them think him spoilt if they wanted. He probably was.

 

They ended up buying new trousers and shirts for the existing jackets, with Gwaine's being re-tailored for his narrower frame. After a discrete conversation with the sales staff, Arthur added things they would need: shoes, cuff links, also some summer jumpers and other faux casual clothes. He hadn't wanted to play with two adolescent girls, but seeing they were there it seemed churlish not to add things they would need to have fun, bathing trunks for him and Gwaine and even some shoes for the girls, who really couldn't expect to be seen in reef shoes and salt water sandals.

Gwaine, with a sensitivity Arthur hadn't suspected of him before, led Ellen away from the sales register, but Mona had shown a great deal of interest in the process, chatting up the tailor in surprisingly good Spanish

Back in the sun they'd hit the smaller pool, the kind with a bar in the middle. Arthur eyed Gwaine in the suit he'd bought him in the shop. It was burgundy and there wasn't much to it. In Great Britain, it would absolutely broadcast an interest in men. God only knew he was having a hard time ignoring the many dips and divots the thing bared. Naturally Gwaine commented on his interest. 

"You like this look on me, Arthur? You don't look bad yourself, though I'm not surprised you go for long and navy."

"We aren't all comfortable in a banana hammock. Aren't you from a Catholic country, Gwaine?"

"He's defintely lapsed." Mona smiled, speaking as if she were an expert on all things Gwaine. "Like me. My family is from Ukraine originally, so I'm supposed to be Eastern Orthodox, but it didn't take."

She had a very fine figure, tiny and boneless and pale in a macramé bikini she'd dug up somewhere. They made a striking couple. Ellen, on the other hand, was still wearing the surfing tankini she'd had on when they met. It looked almost bizarrely old fashioned compared to what everyone else wore in the resort. Her movements seemed freer than everyone else's in her athlete's gear. Arthur thought it was appealing. She reminded him a little of Gwen: natural, sincere. 

Then they hit the swim up bar. There had been serious drinks. No umbrellas. They were too expensive for that, expertly mixed so that you couldn't taste the alcohol. Arthur knew enough to hold back, but his gentle hints just encouraged Mona to make brittle self conscious remarks, which annoyed him. So he left her to her fate. It was hard to believe anything terrible could happen in a place rife with flotation devices, anyway.

Mona's hair was still almost white when it was wet, a fact that seemed to fascinate Gwaine, who plastered it into shapes as they dripped into their cocktails.. Arthur tried not to listen to the jealous voice in his head that admitted, well at least I know he likes blonds. He also tried not to notice how graceful the lines of Gwaine's back were and that for all he was so muscular, if Arthur stood right behind him, his shoulders loomed over Gwaine's a little. 

He and Ellen didn't have much to say, despite the flirtation at dinner the day before, or maybe because of it. Arthur had the impression that she didn't want to come off as desperate enough to run after a boat; he didn't want to embarrass with too much attention. Probably he came across as a little cold. And now he had to worry that he was hurting her feelings. This, he wanted to explain to Gwaine, was why you don't go for people who still have a teen in their age.

After dinner they'd found the resort disco, a surprisingly hot spot that appeared to attract everyone from jet setters on a whim to people staggering to shore after a week's kayaking. Mona and Gwaine were flirting and dancing with everyone around them, whilst Arthur and Ellen merely shuffled and shimmied to the music not bored exactly-Arthur always found relief in movement-just not lost in the beat. A few times Gwaine had turned to him, grinding just long enough that Arthur was aroused, but then someone would stare. As sophisticated as the place seemed, it wasn't that kind of disco. Arthur always pulled away, which made Gwaine laugh at him. Arthur found himself angry and frustrated.

"Looks like you two kids need to learn to Salsa." Gwaine came over and took his hand. Arthur felt his smile coming against his will as the other hand found its way to his hip. With no hands free, Gwaine was forced to flick his hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head as he pushed forward into Arthur's space. It made him seem younger, an emo teen, not at all the ruthless, protective man Arthur knew him to be. It was a silly gesture. Arthur felt amusement bubble up past the awkwardness in his throat. It didn't hurt that Gwaine was touching him now, holding his hip with a fine, strong hand, cradling his shoulder. Arthur actually did laugh out loud as Gwaine steered them through the movements of the dance, forcing him back and even shaping the wiggle of his hips with his body. Gwaine had made a princess of him after all.

"There you are Ginger Rogers." Gwaine smirked up at him, already turning his attention to Ellen. Arthur watched him moving her body through space. She was smiling and laughing just as he had. Was that just what Gwaine expected from everyone he hung out with? Arthur remembered the story of how Gwaine had gotten into trouble to begin with, all those people's wives. He resolved to leave Gwaine to Mona for a bit, until they could be alone again. No point getting his hopes up.

To Arthur's surprise, he ended up really getting into the salsa dancing with Ellen. They were both athletic, making up for lack of skill with general exuberance until they were panting and laughing. Arthur found himself downing shots and forgetting to worry as they danced within ever smaller orbits until finally he was grinding into the girl. He would rather be with Gwaine, but at this point, he might as.well take what he could get

By One a.m. they were all sweaty and drunk, hardly protesting as Gwaine ushered them all towards the elevator, extolling the virtues of their hotel suite as if he'd paid for it. Actually he hadn't been there yet. Arthur had gone up alone to check out the place and shave, whilst Gwaine was having his measurements taken at the tailor's.

"I don't know" Ellen bit her lip. 'We promised Roxy we'd have the boat ready by 11 tomorrow at the latest."

"You don't want to go home smashed like this. Besides, Pendragon's floating us in style. May as well take advantage of the grandeur of the place. I bet that bath's so huge you two could kip in it, easy."

Arthur could feel himself grinning. Usually he disliked it when people called attention to what he spent on them, but he knew that accepting his help was a tremendous compliment from Gwaine. Anyway, if he was honest, as far as he was concerned Gwaine could wallow in vulgar appreciation that would have earned anyone else Arthur's permanent disdain. If he hadn't been so drunk, he would have worried about this.

"There are three couches" he said. "No need for the tub."

"Yeah," Gwaine whispered as they headed into the lift, "No baths. I want to to lick the salt off Mona's tits." The girls giggled then. They'd probably been heard but no one seemed to mind. It was pretty obvious that no one there was going to be sleeping on a couch. 

Mona started kissing Gwaine before the lift even started. Ellen plastered herself to Arthur's chest. They'd been dancing long enough he didn't try to hide his erection, indulging himself in the scent of her hair as he pressed himself against her, even watching her face as he oh so slowly pinched her heart shaped bum. That was more intimate by far, he knew, than copping a blind feel. Perhaps no one had ever taken command of her reactions like that before, he thought as he watched her eyes widen, a little awed. She was so young, there were no lines on her face despite all the sun. Arthur felt a tendril of guilt.

Up in the suite Arthur busied himself closing down the air conditioning vents and opening all the windows, letting in a cool orange-scented breeze and the sound of the waves.

Gwaine meanwhile had found some music source somewhere. Of course he had, although how he found the time when he was already snogging Mona on the couch, Arthur couldn't imagine.

"Thanks Bro," Gwaine looked up briefly, indicating the windows, like he knew Arthur had done it for him. He briefly placed his hand on Arthur's arm as part of his thanks and the hand lingered still on the bicep as he resumed kissing Mona, eventually sliding away. Fuck. What did that mean? Arthur felt his breath quicken. He looked for Ellen, the person he was meant to be flirting with. She was standing by the door to the bedroom and for a heart racing moment he thought they were just gong to skip straight there.

"Oh my God, look the suits came already" Ellen had plucked two dry cleaner bags off the door knobs. It was a reminder of tomorrow, of going home, things Arthur did not want to be thinking about.

"Oh let me see!" Mona clapped her hands, jangling the silver on her wrists. "You have to model them! I can't even imagine Gwaine in a suit!" Arthur could, had obviously, but he was saving that pleasure for tomorrow.

"Come on, Arthur, let the girls have their little treat." Gwaine had long since abandoned his shoes. Now he started unbuttoning his shirt, eyes on Arthur. Arthur sighed.

"Fine." He hesitated, his hands on his collar. He wasn't really that attracted to Mona, wasn't really prepared to strip for her like that. She must have sensed his hesitation, springing up and snatching a suit from Ellen.

"We're going to do this up right. Watch you boys strut your stuff like real models." She giggled. "You can trust me. I'm going to FIT in the Fall. Now you two get in the bedroom and change. We're going to set up the runway."

Arthur almost laughed as Mona shoved her half naked date into the bedroom with him. Had she known Arthur a little better maybe she would have rethought that one. Or maybe it wouldn't matter. He wasn't 100% sure what Gwaine's orientation was. He made no move to get undressed, watching Gwaine as he lounged on the bed, smoking like he had no where else to be, the muscles shifting subtly in his chest and delts as his hand moved back and forth.

Outside there were the sounds of shuffling and furniture moving. The bar was opened, glasses clinked. Soon a heavy beat replaced Gwaine's guitar music. 

"You boys ready?" 

"Just a minute, luv; I'm having a fag," Gwaine called out, not moving, though.

"OK we'll have another drink then. I don't feel like smelling that shit." Arthur rolled his eyes. 

"Like I do," he said. Gwaine just laughed. 

"Buys you some time to catch up stripping"

"I spend most of my life in a bloody suit." Arthur moaned, but he complied and started to undress.

"Here" Gwain balanced his cigarette in his mouth and stood up moving Arthur's jaw in his hands, as he looked him over. "Let me smooth the coif a little, friend. You know you have to put on the good boy look, right? You're blond and clean shaven." It was the closest they had been since the night at the Cantina and any prayer Arthur had of hiding his attraction to Gwaine disappeared once the man's hands were on him. Gwaine didn't seem to notice, just running his hands through Arthur's hair, grunting when he was satisfied. "There."

"I think redistributing sweat isn't the same as the good boy look, Gwaine" Arthur said. 

"Nah, it looks good." 

Arthur looked in the mirror and was surprised to see that his generally unruly hair had indeed gone quiescent. Apparently, it was just as responsive to Gwaine as the rest of him. He hunkered down and dressed without looking up again, since that was the best way to ensure that the trousers, whose tight lines showed distinct signs of a latin rather than English sensibility would not outline every inch of his half hard cock.

"Do you think she wants to see my bits in this thing?" Gwaine asked, apparently making the same discovery. He was frowning at his crotch, shirt undone, pants tight to his groin. It was both the funniest and the most arousing thing Arthur had ever seen  
.  
"You know, I'll ask" he said, "It might be OK. You are the bad boy after all. You're dark and scruffy"

"Oh shut up" Gwaine moved to stop him, but Arthur shoved him off. 

"Don't burn that suit, Bandito. Hey Mona! I have a quesiton."

Gwaine was behind him now, holding one hand over his mouth, as if he even cared if Arthur asked. It was just more of his cockteasing. Arthur could feel his bare stomach against his back. And there went all of his work, putting down his arousal. Oh well. "Mona, Sarah!" he called again

There was dead silence from the outer room. More or less dressed, Arthur and Gwaine crept forth only to discover both girls curled up on the couch together, completely passed out.

"Oh for pity's sake" Gwaine's face fell with genuine childish disappointment as if someone had squashed his fairy cake. "I should never have let them have that last drink."

"Last two drinks," Arthur amended, pointing to the table the girls had pushed back with the couch, the remains of four tequilas on ice melting alongside their shoes. He felt relieved more than anything. "They were really young, Gwaine. It's probably just as well."

"Speak for yourself, Princess. We're not all uptight sadsacks, you know." 

Arthur had never wondered about the origins of that expression; he considered them now as Gwaine leaned over to pull the couch back, leaving Arthur a lovely view of his backside before he plopped himself down. God his balls ached. Sadsack indeed. It had been days since he'd even had a wank. Arthur told himself to turn in and do that, but he found he couldn't stop staring at Gwaine. Probably he was straight, just flirtatious and handsy, but what if it was more?

He was lounging on the couch, head back where he could keep an eye on Arthur. Every time he moved, the muscles shifted in his torso. Arthur knew he was staring, knew that Gwaine knew. The man reached for a glass and then sat back again, eyeing Arthur speculatively over the back of the couch. Was it Arthur's imagination or were his eyes lingering a little on the still slightly straining crotch of his trousers? Arthur opened his mouth to say something sharp, to break the tension, but Gwaine beat him to it.

"So" he said after a beat, "You bent at all, Arthur?"

Arthur felt himself blush deeply. He grinned through it, though.

"About 2/3's," he said, "How about you?" 

"Hmmm, fifty-fifty" Gwaine climbed on to his knees and pulled Arthur by the lapels of his jacket till their mouths met and at last they were kissing.

Arthur had already been aroused when they started. Now he was actually trembling. He let himself tumble over the couch and onto Gwaine's lap, hardly moving apart. 

Gwaine licked his mouth; his tongue tasted of cigarettes, of course, but Arthur didn't care for once, rearing up onto Gwaine's lap feeling his hard cock at their join, his sure hands on Arthur's arse. Arthur moaned, let their kiss get wet and noisy just to hear the sound. He usually only did that when he was close to coming and maybe he was close to coming from that one welcome touch alone. Thinking of cum and all of its associations of mess, ironically called Arthur to his senses.

"Gwaine, Gwaine, hold on"

"What? " Gwaine looked confused and a little cranky, "I don't care if you're closeted Arthur, no judgements here." He leaned in again. The slut. Arthur pulled his head up by the hair, addressed the glazed pupils

"It's not that. Listen, for you I'd say let's rip and wrinkle and stain the night away, OK? But you're using that suit pretty much as a disguise tomorrow and it won't work if it isn't highly respectable and completely immaculate. Capich?"

"Gangster talk really doesn't suit you, Arthur." Gwaine sounded sullen and Arthur wondered if perhaps he had been just as frustrated as Arthur these past few days on the road.

"Then let's just call it Italian, now strip," he said. Gwaine groused and complained, but Arthur was right and he knew it. They draped their trousers and Arther's jacket carefully over the edge of the couch before turning back to each other. 

Probably because he was often told he was good looking, Arthur could be self conscious when he was naked. Only when he was blindingly aroused did he forget that someone was looking at him. Arthur was so absorbed in watching the shirt slip from Gwaine's shoulders that he forgot he too was being appraised until Gwaine was running his hands over Arthur's chest and over the rise of his arse, eyes going where his hands led.

"It's funny you're so blond but you remind me of a lot of Greek boys I've had, all tits and arse," he said, eyes back on Arthur's now, while his fingers dragged over his nipples. It didn't sound like a compliment. Arthur felt himself pull back even as he reached out for Gwaine's hips to undress him. Of course Gwaine caught it. He smirked, "Don't you pull away from me, now. I like the slutty body and the angel face." 

He peeled Arthur's silk drawers off of his legs, taking his time, letting his wrists drag on Arthur's cock. Most people said something about it, since he was fairly big, but Gwaine merely dragged himself down Arthur's body till he was kneeling. Some people looked like a shoe salesman down there, but Gwaine managed to look like something about to spring, and his head was so pretty nestled for a moment in the crook of Gwaine's thigh as he placed a quick kiss, he almost sighed when Gwaine stood up again.

He was kissing Arthur again, taking his time, kneading Arthur's arse.

"God I can't wait to get up in this." he said, although he seemed to be waiting a lot, actually. 

Arthur groaned, forced himself to push all the good heat away. If Gwaine was going to just tease some more then they were going to do this his way.

"No, no wait." His voice had gone all hoarse and he cleared his throat. Gwaine wrapped a hand over Arthur's cock and raised an eyebrow.

"What is it, now Arthur. Don't tell me you're one of those guys that has to top?" Arthur shook his head. He really wasn't.

"No. It's just I've wanted to blow you since you walked into that bar. Please?" Gwaine laughed.

"Save me from these goal oriented types. Fine." He looked around at the collapsed girls. "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

It was true, Arthur was stupidly, helplessly goal oriented and if he could force this beautiful swaggering man to lose himself completely under Arthur's tongue then he would be happy. He hadn't been happy for a long time.

* * *

It was almost like he had their whole first meeting to do over, only this time Arthur was the robber. Gwaine stood by the bed and Arthur leaned into his space: he breathed into his ear.

"You've tortured me for so long." He kissed and sucked at Gwaine's neck, picked up the pendant he wore and licked under it like he wanted to before. It wasn't bitter under there it turned out. Then he pulled back. "You knew it, too. You enjoyed it." Gwaine cocked his head.

"I wasn't sure if you liked me, actually." He smiled, a more toothy smile. "Didn't stop me from enjoying tugging you around on the leash a bit." he picked up the wrist that had the cuff on it, and licked and kissed the place where only his fingers had been that night.

It was only his wrist, Arthur told himself, but it felt as good as a tongue on his cock. Gwaine had hit him, had blacked him out, had dragged his body behind him, linked to his and now he felt completely known by this stranger. Gwaine's hands and his mouth could call him up from the bottom of himself.

It was a little frightening. He was relieved to see that Gwaine wasn't joking or fighting for once. His eyes were on Arthur's, waiting. Maybe he felt something more than usual, too. Well this went both ways. Arthur had held a gun to Gwaine's face, too. He'd already had this man, in a way. They'd seen each other bare before. Arthur placed his hands on Gwaine's shoulders and pushed and forced him down till he was sat on the bed, a reminder. Then he sank down himself, even lower, to the floor.

Gwaine arched back, braced on his hands behind him, just as he had that first time, when Arthur knocked him down in the bar. He was offering himself; it was a position that made him more beautiful at the same time as it left him completely defenseless. Arthur wouldn't have expected it of him, would have expected at least a hand on his head. 

His cock stood up in front of him, darker than Arthur's, fat and long, both.

Arthur moved the foreskin up and down under his hand, then he fetched the lube up from bed where he'd tossed it before and went faster. Gwaine's arm muscles stood taught but he didn't collapse, so Arthur leaned over him and gave his body permission to relax with a press of his own weight.

By now the foreskin had retracted showing the head of Gwaine's cock a good inch and a half wider than the rest of it.

"Fuck Gwaine you have a prick like a door knob."

Gwaine kicked at his shoulder.

"The term's mushroom dick, I'll have you know."

"It's beautiful. You're beautiful" He ringed his tongue round longer than he would have otherwise, playing with the odd shape the thing made in his mouth, until Gwaine kicked him.

"Don't eat me all up, Arthur, I'm gonna need it later."

As soon as started to suck, Arthur realized that Gwaine didn't have to fight to be intense.  
The little pulses he was giving with his hips weren't too hard to resist, but he sensed Gwain could keep it up for a long time.

That was nothing at all like Merlin. Merlin always started out gentle and tentative with his touches only to turn suddenly at some point and become completely wild. It was like swimming at a drop off, all warm and mild one minute, the next deep and frightening and glorious. Arthur had loved to explore that line, had resigned to never engaging as fully with anyone again. But he did with Gwaine. And he'd found someone completely inexorable.

He found a rhythm and sank deeper into it, sucker deeper, exhausting his tongue and jaw, opening his throat. Above him Gwaine's movements, which had been tight and controlled, went shockingly deep. He thrust cruelly once, twice and three times and Arthur forgot who he was, swallowing the bitter cum so deep he almost didn't taste it. It was almost a surprise when Gwaine pushed him away, pulled him onto his chest.

"I knew you'd be like that. You've got a greedy mouth."

"You've got a greedy cock," Arthur laughed, pulling himself up so they were intertwined on the bed.

Arthur's own groin was tight, almost painfully so, but he had never felt more relaxed as he listened to Gwaine's heart slowing gradually under him. Gwaine was carding his hands through Arthur's hair, softly at first, then gently tugging.

"Come on, you gonna fuck me now, Angel? It's been a good long time."  
It had been. Arthur grabbed Gwaine's knees in either hand. He thought about how, good Gwaine felt, tight under his large hands and he kissed his way up the softer skin of his thighs.

It had been a long time since Arthur had any control in this thing between the two of them. And Arthur was good when he was in control as Gwaine was finally finding out. He kissed wetly at Gwaine's thigh, just the spot that was only seen when someone really let go and spread their legs open. Just as Gwaine started to moan and sink into his touch he moved up towards the buttocks and bit, right on the line of too much he knew from Gwaine's exhaled breath. 

He smiled over the mark.

"Stop grinning, you cruel bastard.'

"I know you can take lots more."

 

Then before Gwaine could recover from that, he pushed Gwaine's knees back hard and sucked his balls into his mouth. Gwaine gave a shout. Arthur contained his smirk, nosing at the sack instead, opening his mouth and starting to lick.

It wasn't a surprise to find out that Gwaine was both practical and shameless. As soon as he felt Arthur's tongue, Gwaine was pressing a pillow beneath himself and spreading himself apart for Arthur, hands exposing his hole. He didn't close his eyes either, like most people did; he sought out eye contact.

"Come on pretty blue eyes, rim that hole for me. I'm gonna come so good for you"

"I thought it was my turn to come," Arthur said, reaching for the lube and inserting a finger, pad down gentle. Gwaine fluttered his eyes briefly at the intrusion and then stared back again, "We're going to come together. I think we should, don't you?:

"I should have known you'd make cheesy remarks."

Gwaine laughed. Arthur paused, looking at the relaxed face of a man who had almost been his enemy. It was odd how they were lovers now; it was still Opposite Day. "That's big talk after you just came," he added.

"No, I'll be ready for you."

Arthur rolled his eyes and lay down beside Gwaine to wait because he had never minded deferring pleasure and it wasn't really any less of a pleasure anyway to lay his head on Gwaine's chest and run his finger over the scrolling shapes of his torso.

When he got to his groin where the red cock lay spent and flaccid, Gwaine grabbed a knee.

"Two fingers at a time."

Arthur looked up, already obliging, watching his fingers disappear, watching Gwaine's face as he took his pleasure, took his time.

Gwaine was already getting hard again, as promised. Arthur tried not to think how that stamina had helped him make friends and enemies with half of Mexico. Arthur had Gwaine now and things were going to be different.

It was hot and tight and pleasure he'd forgotten as he swung Gwaine's legs over his shoulders. It had been so long since he'd sunk into someone and pleased them both, longer still since it had not been a guilty respite from other, staler interactions, silent dinners, repetitive arguments.

Below him, Gwaine pressed his back and pushed their faces together.

"I don't want you to be careful. I don't want you to wait. I want you to be the selfish prick I know you are."

Arthur came in a rush to those words. He'd never realized he needed permission to unloose himself before, until he was pounding into Gwane's body without worrying about hurting him, watching his exultant face. 

Arthur had the strange sensation that he was not emptying but instead filling with warmth. He checked Gwaine's eyes and for the first time there was nothing teasing or provocative in them. Arthur thought he looked happy. A wave of pride went through him. I did that, he thought. I made you happy. 

When he pulled out he didn't pull away. Nor did he lower his head to sleep as soon as he disposed of the condom, as he would have done with most people. He did not want to hide away from that happiness.

He got the feeling that Gwaine was always performing. He wasn't false, exactly-Arthur knew a lot of people like that and Gwaine wasn't like them-but he was always earning his way by being easy to know. He flirted and laughed. He got along. Arthur didn't want that. He wanted the Gwaine from the beach, full of judgements and outraged honor. And now happy. Arthur was going to let him be, not performing for anybody, just enough in himself. He would bet none of the other people who slept with this man did that.

Arthur balanced on Gwaine's chest and traced his finger over the stubbled jaw, watching the deep set eyes closing now. He kissed hands that were trying to rove and gathered them up, tucking them over his own head. Arthur fell asleep there, pressed captive to Gwaine's chest, filling still with warmth. He knew what it was. But he didn't want to name it yet.


	7. Chapter 7

He was woken by a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh...oh I'm sorry." It was a feminine voice, Ellen. Arthur pressed his hand over his eyes, looking up through the sudden brightness at the girl. He'd actually forgotten she existed. She looked utterly crushed in last night's party clothes, standing in the doorway with her fist over her mouth and her shoes in her hand.

"Nothing to be sorry about." Gwaine sat up slowly, leaving his hand where it lay on Arthur's thigh. He patted the bed with the other. "You should come join us." His grin was big and easy. Ellen shook her head, didn't say anything.

"What's going on?" Mona's voice was always a little too loud. "Oh shit!" She didn't seem upset like Ellen, looking behind her as her friend hastened to pull her out of the room. Arthur could hear enough of their whispered argument to guess that Mona wanted to accept Gwaine's invitation and Ellen didn't. No one had bothered to ask Arthur what he thought. He sighed and leaned over to find his boxers at least. Gwaine's hand on his thigh tightened. He leaned over and hauled Arthur back to the center of the bed, laying his head on Arthur's lap,

"You don't want the girls, I take it," he said quietly, stroking a finger on Arthur's thigh, peering up at him. Arthur sighed again. He found his hands resting on Gwaine's chest as if they often woke up this way, as if they were just discussing the day's plans.

"I don't like Mona, to be honest."

"And?" Aurther wanted to say, 'And I want you and I want to think about you and smell you and taste you and I don't want anyone else getting in the way. And furthermore, I don't want you to act like I"m the same as them.' All he said was:

"And Ellen's a nice kid. She deserves better." Gwaine held Arthur's gaze for a while.

"I'll tell them. You'll just make a hash of it."

Gwaine was gone for long enough that Arthur had time to shower. He didn't put his boxers on, didn't pretend he wasn't going to have sex with Gwaine when he came back. Arthur slipped back into bed, trying not to mind that he was sitting in his own damp. Outside he could hear Mona's laughter. Even Ellen laughed once or twice. Then the door clicked.

"They'll meet us for brunch." Gwaine came back to bed quickly. It was evident he had worked the entire conversation with the girls in his pants. It was an astounding feat of diplomacy, but Arthur didn't compliment. He didn't want to spend another moment thinking about Mona with her hands all over Gwaine. He turned over and pressed his arse up an looked over his shoulder, as if they had never been interrupted.

"I want you to fuck me now, like you promised."

"Oh Jesus, yes." Worries he'd entertained, that Gwaine would be less interested now that he knew Arthur wasn't up for group sex disappeared, once he felt Gwaine's hands on him.

"God look at you. I can't believe I've spent two nights on the road with you and this is the first time you have that arse out for me."

Arthur felt the brush of Gwaine's hair on his shoulders as he hovered over his back, dropping hot kisses down his spine.

"I want to break you down. You're so in control all the time, but I bet when you go you go deep. Bet I could do anything to you and you'd love it."

"Why don't you find out?" Arthur tilted his hips into Gwaine's hands, but his touch remained light, all finger tips. Of course Gwaine had to surprise him again. 

"Tell me about the first time you did this." Gwaine was rubbing the slick all over Arthur's upturned arse, massaging the muscles as if this was the point of the whole thing. It felt good. Arthur lowered his head and his hips to accept the massage, tried to focus on the question.

"It was my fencing instructor. I was 15"

"Hot"

"Mmmm. He was always behind me you know, correcting my stance, breathing into me."

"So one day he just leaned a little more?" Gwain leaned over his back to demonstrate. For a moment, Arthur could feel the heat off of him, the rub of his cock. Then he pulled back .

"Oh no. God no. He wouldn't have done that. I stayed late once. I didn't have my car yet. And I'd left something in the locker room, so I came back and I found him fucking one of the team guys, national level. So I kept coming back and watching until one day they had a fight."

"And?" Gwaine stopped massaging. He pulled the lube out from the side table again and twisted a fingerful of it into Arthur's entrance. Arthur didn't have time to tense. Gwaine added another finger and scissored them, pushing the air from Arthur's body, expecting it from him that he could take it and take it just like that. And he could. Of course he could. Arthur's voice went hoarse and he reared up again.

"And I begged him just like I begged you. Please please fuck me. I'll never tell. And I never have till now."

"I like that story, Angel, but this is going to be a better one." There was a rustling on the ground beside the bed. Gwaine must have been hanging off it like a monkey to keep his knees on the bed where Arthur felt them anchoring him.

"You like beaded toys?" he asked into Arthur's ear. "Course you do. You're so brave and so fucking hot. Still sinking deep for me like you did for that teacher." Gwaine was nuzzling his neck, one hand absolutely still on his shoulder, the rest of him, moving, already in a wave that he could already tell was going to be the rhythm of Gwaine fucking him.

Where on earth had he gotten that toy? It didn't bear thinking about. 

Arthur groaned and Gwaine pushed the head of the thing in. Arthur felt his heart beat faster. He'd seen this kind of thing before, although he'd never tried it. The toy wasn't just a pretty set of beads; it was the kind of thing that was more like a graduated plug. it was kind of big already and it was just the first one. He corrected the urge to look behind him. He lost the urge to do anything but take it in, take more.

"Mmmm that's a pretty sight. Gwaine backed off of him now. Arthur felt the gentle, inexorable slide of the second, fatter bump. Then he cried out as Gwaine's tongue joined it, flicking around the stretched rim. He heard himself wailing, felt the muscles spasming in a wave as another bead went in.

He collapsed onto his forearms a bit. Apparently that was the cue for Gwaine to start moving the toy, in circles at first and then brushing over his prostate. He pumped it slowly in and out, breathing through his teeth above him as if he was the one getting fucked. The thing in Gwaine's hand was intense, dragging over where he was most sensitive, and flaring him open at the same time. It seemed to be everywhere. Gwaine seemed to be everywhere, breathing in his ear as he hovered over the length of Arthur's back, then lapping at his balls and kissing his thighs. The nicotine was sweating off his skin now and along with the tang of his own personal scent seemed to smother Arthur in his smell.

It had been a long time since Arthur had longed so much be dominated. He pushed back and tossed his head, hoping to feel an answering shove. Gwaine pulled his hair back sharply.

"You asking for my cock, now, Arthur?"

"Yes." Arthur gulped and pushed back, but Gwaine had already anticipated the move, screwing the toy out of his arse and replacing it with his hard dick.

Arthur was grateful for the warm up as Gwaine entered him. Right, that thick cockhead. It hurt at first, but soon Arthur was glad of the fatness of it. He groaned and arched himself higher. Gwaine grabbed his hips and pulled like a sailor. Arthur laughed. p>

"Should have realized you could have pulled harder on that rope."

"I like to be properly motivated," Gwaine said. And now the violence, held so long at bay, before the girls and after, took over and Arthur found out it was true what Gwaine had said. Gwaine was merciless and he went deep for him, shouting all sorts of nonsense as he came almost as soon as he touched himself.

When they were done Arthur felt as if he knew Gwaine, that Gwaine was his. As the physical glow died back a little, Gwaine shifted away a bit, just scratching, but Arthur felt the reminder. Of course it wasn't true at all that they were together. And he didn't even know anything about Gwaine. He'd been doing all the talking, hadn't he?

He leaned over and pulled a lock of hair out of Gwaine's mouth.

"You were choking." It felt nice to whisper, to be so close that anything else would be too loud. "So what was your first time? I told you mine."

"With a bloke? Bottoming?"

"Whichever"

"It doesn't matter. Gwaine settled his hands behind his head. "Answer's the same anyhow. It was an accident really, same as you. I snuck out of the house. You know, as you do when you're 15 or so. I was going to meet a girl down by the wharf. There was a hotel there, some of us knew how to get in from the side. The security guard caught me."

Arthur felt himself tense, heard Gwaine chuckle.

"When will you stop trying to take care of everything? Relax. It was good. Guy shone his torch in my face and asked me who I was meeting. Just a girl, I said. And then he looked disappointed. He was young and couldn't hide it. So I said, what you wish it was you and he said, yeah."

Gwaine turned over and lit one of his cigarettes.

"Fucked me right in the sand. That night and 3 nights running."

"So that's where you learned to use the handcuffs?" Arthur asked.

"That's where I learned how corrupt is the law." Gwaine said, distant. He was not looking at Arthur when he said it. 

* * *

It was getting late. They were tired, after all the traveling. Even Gwaine, who had more restless energy than anyone Arthur had met, seemed limp on the bed, but Arthur knew they had to press on. The light striping Gwaine's hair had shifted. It was moving into afternoon and their flight was at 4.

Arthur was always aware of the hour. The only time he could remember forgetting about it was those days as Gwaine's captive, when he'd taken Arthur's phone away. Now the mental alarms chimed: flight departures, conferences, long forgotten meetings. The brunch. He forced himself out of bed and lumbered back, bringing the clothes they'd left out and placing them on the blanket chest at the foot of the bed.

"Come on, Gwaine. We can't stand up the girls."

"Oh I don't know." Gwaine peered up at him from under the curve of his arm. So beautiful, god. "You don't seem eager to do anything with girls."

"I'm not eager to do anything but fuck you till I reek of it." Arthur said, honestly. "But you invited them on the boat and into this room and I'm not going to stand them up now."

"It's not too late to cancel brunch." Gwaine turned over and let his knees fall. His cock lay heavy on his thigh. Jesus, the man had the recovery time of a teenager. "We can invite them if you feel so bad."

"I don't get it, Gwaine." Arthur forced his tone to remain light. "What do we need them for? You've had me at gun point and in handcuffs. You've been in my mouth and in my arse. We even have the police waiting, potentially. Isn't it exciting enough for you? Because it's exciting enough for me, believe me." 

Gwaine sat up on his knees and placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders. His hands were warm. "Hmm thing is your shoulders are good, really macho. I want to see what you look like holding a woman. It would be good." 

Arthur looked into Gwaine's eyes. They were sincere, if not guileless This was Gwaine. He reached forward and pulled him till their torsos touched, outlining the thin mouth with his tongue, finding the healthy taste of his mouth under the ashy bitterness.p>

"I want to have you, not some girl," he whispered. He pressed his hands over the lines of Gwaines back, curves as sinuous in their own way, as any woman's. He could almost imagine it, watching Gwaine fuck Mona, watching his cheeks clench from across the room, but he didn't want it. "And it kills me we're out of time. See me in London some time, please? Or I won't be able to stop."

"Fine. You're right. We have a date." He reached for his trousers and pulled out the lighter. "You know You said you were 2/3 bent." He was talking over the cigarette now. "That sounds like some crap to me. Are you sure that 1/3 isn't just you holding out hope you can still give Daddy grandkids?"

Arthur paused dressing himself to shake his head. "Nope. That's the statistic. I like sleeping with women, but I mostly fall in love with men. I've fallen in love 4 times and only 1 was a girl."

"Which one was she?'"

"Oh number 2." There was so much he could say about Gwen. He didn't say any of it. He wasn't sure if she would approve of Gwaine, anyway. "It didn't last though. She left me for my best friend."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, he was number 1. Lance. Straight as an arrow." At the time the symmetry of it had hurt quite a bit, but he almost enjoyed it now because it made him feel closer to them both. He was god father to their son William and he felt like the kid was a little bit his, sometimes, and both Gwen and Lance had chosen to stay near him, when they could have moved further away for a bigger home or even out of the London orbit altogether. They were, for all intents and purposes, family. 

"It does seem you're pants at arithmetic."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You said you were 2/3s gay but you said you fell in love 4 times, so shouldn't that be 3 out of 4 ?"

"Shut up. " Arthur's heart pounded. He'd said 4. Gwaine wasn't one to miss a hint like that. He had to know he was the fourth person, that Arthur was in love with him. Arthur didn't want him to know about that yet. It was too soon to make the claim he wanted to make.

"Tell me about number three," Gwaine asked, changing the subject. He was standing a little closer now, hand pressed against the metal elevator wall behind Arthur. Gwaine knew when not to push. But he wouldn't forget either. The man was far wilier than any business opponent Arthur had ever squared off against. And Arthur was willing to bet he almost always got his way 

"I don't want to." Arthur could feel himself sulking. "I was enjoying the fact that you made me forget him."

"Oh, but that only makes it more interesting, Arthur." Arthur, not Blondie or Princess or even Angel. How had he gotten to the point where he flushed with pleasure from hearing his own name?

"I always told him he was too good for me. One day he agreed with me. Enough said."  
Arthur eyed the elevator panel, where the floors were ticking down. If only this weren't such a large resort.

"You've got to give me more than that."

"Do I?" Arthur looked at Gwaine as the doors opened, expecting the conversation to be over. He thought Gwaine would look away. Who was he- someone who grouped his lovers instead of counting them- to force confessions out of an honest man? 

Gwaine just stood in the elevator with his hand on the door, waiting. Arthur grabbed his hand and pulled.

"Has anyone ever told you you're obnoxious?" 

"Only my friends!" Gwaine pulled ,too, to point out a tree full of parakeets that somehow managed to grow in a little well of light off the lobby and soon they were walking hand in hand through a different part of the resort, into the sunny middle where there was a dining area under the atrium.

The girls were waiting for them, already sipping coffee in a round booth across the floor. Arthur paused, not quite ready to give up Gwaine to their company yet. Of course he took advantage.

"Why don't you want to tell me about number 3, now?"

"Because it ended badly." Arthur snapped. "Why don't we talk about one of your ex lovers for a change?" Gwaine grinned and opened his mouth. "Never mind, you probably can't count that high." Arthur didn't want to hear about all the drug lord Molls and cops' wives again. "We can go back to talking about my number 3."

He closed his eyes.

"Three is Merlin. He's beautiful, lanky, a little goofy. He's one of those people with no front. He's just always himself, if you know what I mean. Always learning something new, making a tit of himself."

"OK Tell me the silliest thing he did."

"There was the time he learned to swing dance and ended up a gigilo or something for the studio."

Arthur had bought him the lessons, the first time. They had been intended for both of them, as an apology, but Arthur had only made it once. "The thing was he couldn't really dance, so he ended up just leading all the ladies around and dipping them a lot. They didn't fire him because they kept signed on for more lessons."

"My guess is he looked good in a dinner jacket?"

"Honestly I think he was a danger to himself and brought out the mother hen in every one, but to be fair I never saw him do it." He'd heard it all via Gwen. Arthur was surprised how much that hurt him even now. "I never had time to go."

"Anyway, he got sick of never seeing me. He moved to Canada with someone he met from some forestry class he took. A forestry class! What was he doing there? He wasn't even a scientist, for Christ's sake. He had a literature degree. He worked in a library."

"Would it have been better if he'd left you for a traveling troubadour?"

"Maybe. I mean what kind of job is babysitting trees?"

"Men chopping wood are always sexy. I bet I'd like this number 3 He's got good taste." Gwaine laughed.

"Oh God you probably would." Oddly the thought was sort of comforting. For the first time since the break up he didn't feel like throwing up at the mention of Merlin's name. It was nice actually to talk about him to someone who only knew Arthur's feelings. Everyone else who loved him, loved Merlin as well

At first Brunch was surprisingly pleasant. The girls oohed and awed over their suits, worn with summer jumpers in the end, instead of ties. It was as if the flirtation at the camp had never been interrupted by a misplaced seduction. Arthur was thrilled to get a second chance at the brightly colored breads and cafe con leche. 

Sinking back into the booth, he observed how Gwaine flattered and teased both girls into pink cheeked fluster. He was witnessing, he realized, a display of exquisite manners. He wondered where Gwaine had learned not just to ease tension but also the sense of responsibility for other people's comfort. It made Arthur wonder if he was ever truly spontaneous and it cast a little pall on what they'd shared; he was almost positive there had been no placating, almost.

"I'm going to the desk to purchase our tickets." he said, eager to shake the feelng off, " Apparently we can get them all the way to London. Anyone need anything?" 

"I'm still eating. Here." Gwaine handed him a tattered looking passport. Arthur sighed. He looked inside briefly, curious if he would know the surname. Gwaine Greene. Maybe he had heard it before, but maybe not. "I'll be back."

When he returned Ellen was sitting alone and Gwaine was just getting up, dragging Mona behind him to visit a chocolate fountain. He and Ellen exchanged glances as Gwaine fed Mona dipped strawberries, then licked the excess chocolate off her mouth. It was very theatrical. No doubt it was advertising for what they could be doing if Arthur wasn't such a sadsack.

"So," Ellen nodded at the dessert table, "Gwaine seems like a real player."

"I don't know what Gwaine is," Arthur admitted, "But if he gets chocolate on that suit I'm going to kill him." His humor sounded false even to his own ears.

"So are you two together?" Arthur looked at her, nursing the marachino cherry on her drink, nervous. He felt a wave of completely unjust anger at her for being hurt and for asking him to define the thing that he had with Gwaine when he was afraid to ask himself. It took all his forbearance to answer evenly. 

"I want to be; I don't know what he wants."

Ellen nodded. Her eyes were wet, a little. "You know Mona is a bitch. I don't think I'm going to sit around while she frenches Gwaine in front of both of us. Tell her I'm waiting on the boat." She turned around head down, hurrying. Then in a flurry, she ran back and kissed Arthur once on the mouth. "I'm sorry he got there first." she blurted out and then she was gone again.

Arthur sighed after her. It was a brave thing to say, braver than anything he'd managed to tell Gwaine so far. When had he become afraid to reach for the person he wanted? Why was he sitting here passively letting Gwaine kiss someone else, pretending he didn't mind? He'd always pushed before, for Merlin for Gwen. Poor Lance had been so overwhelmed by Arthur's adolescent campaign of fudge and poetry and worshipful deepthroating he hadn't even noticed he wasn't gay. The rejection had hurt, of course, but not as much as Gwen and later Merlin. The pain spread farther each time, not as sharp perhaps, but all the more complete for being general. This last time had almost wrecked him. He laughed. No need to feel sorry for Ellen; she was only 18.

"Where's Ellen?" Gwaine came back, holding hands with Mona. Arthur shrugged. 

"Went back to the boat. I guess she's tired of watching you two flirt." Arthur was too, of course. But he was still there and he thought he knew a lot more about pleasing Gwaine than Mona did. It was about time he remembered who he was. This time He wasn't backing down. "Come here." He let his voice go husky. He pulled Gwaine's hair enough to hurt a little and kissed him on both cheeks, a mockery of the greeting the girls got. Then he squeezed Gwaine's cock through his jeans. That cock had been in his body just half an hour ago, why should he pretend he didn't know it?

"You want to go back upstairs?" Gwaine wasn't fighting Arthur's embrace. He slid onto the banquette, kissing Arthur briefly on the mouth, still resting his arm lightly over Mona.

"I want you," Arthur said, using his sincerity as a battering ram, "But we don't have time. We'd better get going." Gwaine raised his eyebrows and slid his arm off of Mona's shoulders.

Arthur watched her open her painted mouth. She wasn't worried, she wasn't concerned, she looked pleased with herself, also excited and trying to hide it.

"Are you sure we don't have time for a little visit?" She asked. Arthur felt something like hatred for her smug pale little smile. 

"We really don't," he said in his plummiest public school tones, standing abruptly. Hadn't Gwaine told her what was at stake at the airport? But of course he hadn't. No one could withhold information like Gwaine. "The fact is Gwaine and I have gotten in a little hot water. Neither one of us can afford to miss this flight or muss these trousers, for that matter." It was a lie. He didn't have to go with Gwaine, but she didn't know that.

He held her gaze. He was older, stronger, more informed; frankly he outranked her, but that was not not why he was going to win. He didn't know much about Gwaine and why he did the cockemamy things he did, but he had guessed that it made him uneasy when things got heavy between friends. This stand off was going to make Gwaine uncomfortable and he was going to end the discomfort by making a choice and, Arthur sincerely hoped, he was going to choose him.

"Yeah we've got to go." Sure enough, Gwaine had felt the need to interrupt. "Tell you what, Mona, why don't I walk you to the boat, yeah?"

"OK." She frowned at Arthur, confused. Arthur nodded. Now that he'd gotten his way, he'd forgotten her already. Sometimes he was a prick like that.

When Gwaine came back Arthur did not give him a chance to wander. He reached under the impeccable jacket, just this side of careless and pressed Gwaine's hips tight enough to hurt and kissed him again, shamelessly, loudly even. They weren't tucked in a booth, canoodling. They were standing in the middle of the resorts flagship brunch, and Arthur was letting all and sundry know that Gwaine was his.

Arthur had never let himself touch another man so overtly in public, not even on Myconos wearing espadrilles, certainly not like this, in a conservative country, at an exclusive resort. It was not just pushy, possessive behavior, it was a decision he had no right to make for his partner, especially not where he was wanted by the law. What if they caught the attention of a bigoted security guard? A torrent of shame pushed the triumph out of him. He thought he could hear Merlin's voice telling him, "It's not that it isn't sexy Arthur because it is, mostly, but why do you always have to win?"

"I'm sorry, " Arthur tried not to survey the scene; at least ten people were watching. "I shouldn't have done that here."

p>"Why are you apologizing when you know I like it?"

"I'm afraid I won't know where to stop. You make me forget myself. And it's not just now when I kissed you in public. I mean about the girls. I'm sorry I pushed them away, but....

Gwaine interrupted him. "So you don't want them and I do. What's it to you?"

"I want you to myself. It's not just a casual thing to me." 

Arthur was confessing now. He watched Gwaine's eyes, looking for disgust or irritation, or worse yet the teasing charm he used on everybody, but they met his impassively. "I didn't tell you before because I didn't want to scare you off, but I guess you can tell now. I don't like to share. " 

"Oh, is that what it was? I thought maybe you weren't really into women. Some guys lose the taste for it."

Arthur felt his sense of triumph dissipate. This was an avowal; it should have been a bombshell. It was almost an "I love you" even, but Gwaine just heard a preference, as if he'd said he liked his steak with sauce or without.

"I'd like to see you again, Gwaine; I just need to know what that's going to look like, if other people would be involved. I'm jealous, I guess for want of a better word."

Gwaine started whistling, taking Arthur's hand as he surveyed the nuts and gum selection at the little kiosk right before the door to the resort aircraft.

Arthur felt as if he hadn't spoken, as if Gwaine had muted him somehow. Gwaine grinned and pointed to little inflatable toy on a stick. It was a donkey with an accurate undercarriage. "Do you think I'll be arrested if I hand those out to the children in LA?"

"Gwaine!" Arthur said, pulling his arm. Gwaine snapped into place like a ballroom dancer, looking surprised to find himself right in front of Arthur, "I said I can't share. Is the concept foreign?"

This was the first time he had admitted to someone else the intense need he had to keep them for himself; usually it was the other person telling him that he was controlling while he denied it. Gwaine looked him in the eyes and Arthur felt that this time he had his serious attention..

"It is a little foreign for me, to be honest."

Arthur huffed out a breath, ready to get to his task.

"Look can we sit down?" 

Gwaine pointed to some bench, practically engulfed in a little palm. They sat down while Gwaine looked at him with his ankle on his knee, as if already waiting for it to be over.

"I know you think I'm an entitled knob; you've said it enough." Gwaine nodded. "And I think you're obnoxious when you don't have to be and nice when you don't have to be either, for that matter and I don't fathom your life choices at all."

Gwaine leaned forward and opened his mouth. Relieved to have engaged him, Arthur hurried to interrupt.

"But I understand you, I think and I don't think many people do. You are careless of yourself, but you take care of people, even in little things, like not wanting to hurt those girls' feelings. I don't like the way I got to know you." Gwaine twirled his finger in the air, miming the handcuffs. Arthur grinned, despite himself. "Or maybe I do, I don't know, but I got to know something about the way you are. I think you have real honor. Admittedly, it come out in weird ways, but I know it's there. I recognize it. And I like to think you recognize something in me, too." He took a deep breath. "I think it's worth it to see what we have."

Gwaine sprang up as soon as he finished talking.

"Do you mean us, as in no one else?"

"I mean no Mona's no Ellen's, no unexpected double dates."

"So you're saying you want me." He looked down at Arthur, "And the first thing you do is tell me how I can change for you."

Arthur squinted up at Gwaine. It was so much simpler when Gwaine had the handcuffs or he had the gun. He searched Gwaine's face and saw traces of bitterness and humor, but no strain yet, no sign that he was afraid to lose this chance. He felt a small wave of disappointment.

"Don't give me that Angel face; it makes you hard to say no to."

"So don't say no."

"Arthur, there's a saying, "Beware of any enterprise that requires a new set of clothes." 

"Emerson," Arthur pointed out. Gwaine glared at him. "Sorry. Degrees are good for that sort of thing, you know."

Gwaine shook the lapels of his re-tailored jacket. "So I've known you all of a week and here I am, wearing this clobber. Let's say I agree to be with you; that puts me in London right away, because you're too important to follow me around where I'm going, yeah?"

"It's not like that."

"Isn't it? You know why I didn't come on to you before? "

Arthur had wondered, actually once he knew how easily Gwaine fell in bed, why he hadn't tried with Arthur that first night.

"It's not that I didn't find you attractive, obviously. It's just that I don't like to be part of anybody else's agenda. You're dangerous for me, you know. I can meet a girl like Mona, sleep with her, even travel together But someone like you. If I meet you somewhere I'm following you and I know it."

Arthur felt a shock of pleasure at hearing those words, even though he didn't mean to; Gwaine would follow him.

"You followed a girl all the way to Mexico," he said, evenly, not wanting Gwaine to get a hint of his satisfaction and shy away. "Would be so different to come to London with me?"

"Yeah, but she wasn't anybody special in Mexico. It was just some place she was going."

"So?"

You're so used to it, you don't see it. It's like a body temperature bath, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"The money, the job, the old boy network. You get what you want so often, you can't tell the difference between what you need and other people."

"So...." Arthur drawled out the syllable, " I always get what I want. So if I want you to leave Mona alone and just be with me, that's going to happen."

Gwaine grinned and spread his arms.

"I don't see Mona anywhere, do you?"

Arthur grabbed Gwaine's wrist. He thought of the first time they made love, how grateful he was that Gwaine didn't feel he had to protect Arthur's feelings. Well no danger of that now.

"My life is nothing like that, OK? People leave me all the time, fall in love with someone else, have babies, disappear. My ex ran off to Vancouver. God only knows where you're going to piss off to." 

Gwaine paused a heart beat.

"Just because I wanted to see you with some girl you liked doesn't mean I'm going anywhere."

The moment stretched out between them, filled with canned music and the sound of suitcase wheels.

"So you do want to be with me?" Arthur hated how tentative he sounded. He thought he'd heard a promise in there.

Gwaine picked up his hand. "Yeah, but I'm not sure if what I want matters. I'm not sure if what you want matters. You want to know the Truth about Arthur Pendragon?"

Arthur did not fancy the way this was going. He snatched his hand back, reminded himself to count and breathe.

"Why not? it's not like we're going to find out anything about Gwaine Greene."

Gwaine at least had the grace to wince at that

"The truth is you act like everything you do matters, but the irony is people like you don't have a lot of choices. You can't even decide not to wear a tie in the morning."

"Bollocks! I called my father for you. I bared my neck because I like you; because it was the right thing to do. I'm more than some school, some company, some name."

Gwaine looked at him for a long time. His skin was paler and thinner than Arthur had realized and his eyes were calm.

"You did that in Mexico sure. And if you wanted to come with me back to Mexico I'd go with you in a heart beat, but you're going to go back there to your club and your secretary and you're going to be tied up in little bows by all that shite."

It was probably true. And he couldn't just leave to go to Mexico either, because he wouldn't be anyone he recognized there and Gwaine wouldn't be enough to keep him sane.

Though that was exactly the sacrifice he was expecting Gwaine to make. But wasn't it less of a sacrifice for him? Gwaine's life wasn't rooted anywhere.

In any case, It didn't make any sense for them to be together. As a couple they had none of the practical things going for them. Arthur's goal was to steer his father's company into a better direction, Gwaine wanted to follow his own nose. Arthur was possessive. Gwaine liked adding strangers to his bed. Arthur wanted London, Gwaine wanted Mexico or travel.

Nothing that they had in common would be found on a survey, but they weren't any less important for all that. Arthur saw things shining in Gwaine that he thought were part of his own rock and foundation: courage, belligerence, selfish sensuality, the urge to protect the weak. 

"What do I have to do to make you stay?" He had said the words before, to Merlin, but it had been too late by then.

Gwaine scrunched up his face. "Nothing. That's what I'm telling you. It just wouldn't work out between us. I mean, are you really going to drag me to your poncy company events?"

"Why not? You clean up nicely."

"What if I don't want to clean up?" It did seem unlikely, Arthur admitted to himself.

"Well, you wouldn't have to go. Merlin didn't a lot of the time."

"And he left you for someone else, didn't he?"

Arthur checked Gwaine's face for cruelty, but he did not look cruel. He got the feeling Gwaine wouldn't take it as personally, when Arthur didn't have time, even as he was more vociferous about it.

"You're not Merlin, believe me. You'd stick up for yourself before it got that far."

Gwaine snorted, but he took Arthur's hand up again, tracing the contours of it with one finger like a little kid making a crayon outline for some project.

"What we've had so far has been good, really good actually, more than I've felt for a long time." He looked up at Arthur and Arthur went still, waiting for the other half of the sentence, because Gwaine had drawn the kind of breath that left room for a disclaimer. "But I have to see who I want and go where I want. I've always been that way. I can't be hanging on you."

Arthur was relieved to find the problem. This he was good at, hearing the objections and battling them down.

"We wouldn't have to live together. Not if you want to keep your life the way you've grown used to it."

"I can't afford to live in London, Arthur." Gwaine rolled his eyes as if Arthur were the feckless one of the two of them.

"I could supplement..." he started, already knowing it was a mistake. Gwaine glowered.

"Let's just forget the money for a moment, because I get by. I always get by and I depend on no one. Let's get back to the part where you want me to go and be part of your life, but you don't have one. Being the higher ups at a place like you've got in the family takes more time than shagging a dozen girls, Arthur. But you want me to wait for you, right? You won't be satisifed till I'm wringing my hands in my apron waiting for your pompous arse to get home. I really can't see that."

The worst thing was that Gwaine didn't look angry, he looked patient, as if it were Arthur he hated to disappoint, poor naive Arthur. Arthur gritted his teeth, finding his way past the insult to his goal as he did a dozen time a day, at work.

"I can find a way to make more time."

Gwaine shook his head.

"How often did you say that to number three before he got tired of it?"

It was a low blow, but true. Arthur started pacing. He had sensed somehow the cost of this coming together with Gwaine lurking behind the props: the exotic locale, the exhausting, exultant sex. Gwaine could not be brought back into his life as it now stood. He'd probably always known it, seen the sacrifice waiting around the bend, getting closer, like a migraine, like a thirtieth birthday that loomed, now that he thought about it. This was his last chance, perhaps. 

"You know my sister had an idea for a foundation. If I vote for it my father will probably pull me off of the inside track. It won't matter so much if I miss a few events, once I'm not expected to be next in line anymore. She does it every year actually; it should be in a couple days."

"Are you saying you're taking a pay cut for me?" Gwaine was frowning suspiciously.

"If you will give me and London a try, I will make it clear that my father can't pick all of me up by one handle any more. He'll have to find a new son at work."

He couldn't believe he was offering this. His heart was still beating even as they announced the boarding for the little plane. And Gwaine still hadn't said anything.

He wouldn't be heir to Pendragon Corporation anymore.

* * *

They were boarding the little plane for the flight to Las Angeles. There was a brief ride in a late model van that still stank of leather. The entire ride, Arthur itched to continue their conversation, frustrated that they had run out of privacy just as they were getting somewhere. For now the distant chatter of other passengers filled the space between him and Gwaine. Arthur was fairly sure he had never had a conversation before in which he had no idea what the other person wanted from him. He was pretty sure, though, that he wanted Gwaine. No, very sure. He just wasn't sure what the cost was. 

All of his sense of suspense focused on his own private thief, the person who had stolen him away from himself and left him on a new path entirely, he almost forgot to be nervous about security. After all the build up, Arthur hardly even noticed as they approached the little tarmac and a pretty Mexican girl took their passports at the entrance to the plane. She didn't even look at the picture i.d.. 

Together they walked onto the jet and let another girl, twin to the first, seat them in their own little compartment. There was the whirr of compressed air. Gwaine whistled.

"Wow so this is how the other one hundreth lives!" 

Arthur looked around. It was very nice, sort of art deco with a lot of sun spray patterns. A designer had done his very best to make the narrow space feel proportionate, with one kitchen open to the patrons squaring off the end of the plane. It reminded Arthur of many London townhouses he'd been in, but with an excess of couches.

Yet another young lady, taller and skinnier by far than was average in Mexico came by. She was very elegant for someone wearing navy culottes and a little skipper hat like the boy on the crackerjack box.

"Everyone needs to find a seat. You can sit in your assigned booth or if you prefer either the bar or the conference room." She gestured first to one than the other end of the plane. Gwaine grinned.

"Well you know where I'm headed, Princess." Arthur shook his head, thinking of all the paper work his sister had emailed him within seconds of realizing he wasn't dead.

"I'm for the conference room, I'm afraid." he said. He thought Gwaine would be annoyed, but he just laughed.

"I wouldn't mind meeting you in the WC later," he placed his hand on Arthur's bicep and squeezed. Arthur thought his eyes looked sad for a moment, but the wicked grin replaced it "I never really answered you back there."

"No." The little hamster that had been running around his head, looking for Merlin, looking for Gwaine died somewhere behind the headache he had coming on. Arthur was listening now, god was he ever listening. 

"Let's just say I'm curious about what could happen and I try to always satisfy my curiosity."

"So you want to see me."

"If you keep your promise, Yes."

He meant the promise to vote with Morgana. Fuck. It was a big ask. It was all in front of him again and this time it seemed like too much.

"But you don't want to be exclusive."

"I'm offering you a chance." Gwaine didn't elaborate "And I definitely don't want today to be the last time I see you come."

Arthur's libido, stung by the strange turn their conversation had taken, perked up. It was amazing how wanted Gwaine made him feel. Maybe if that was true, he might not mind so much if Gwaine wanted other people as well. Maybe. He'd have to think about it.

"OK," he said and he didn't know if those two syllables that weren't even a word were enough to mean his previous life had been offered in exchange for the chance to know this man, or if they were going to just date a bit or maybe only fuck in the loo.

Once safely ensconced in the familiar prison of keyboards and monitors and the ketone odor of toner, Arthur found he couldn't stop thinking about what Gwaine had said or rather what he hadn't said. They hadn't discussed what would happen after the plane landed in LA, but presumably they would take the flight to London together and then part ways at Heathrow. Numbers would be exchanged and then Arthur would hope, for what exactly? That he was hard to give up on. That Gwaine would move closer.

It was odd to think of Gwaine in London. It was an expensive place to be a jack of all trades. And the man was right, people dressed carefully. Gwaine wouldn't be able to get away with wearing the same jeans and billowy shirt all the time as he did in Mexico, at least, not if he went the same places Arthur did. And he wouldn't be able to afford to buy his own clothes or his own rent doing the kind of work he'd scooted by on up till now. For the first time he caught a glimpse of what Merlin had been talking about when he'd said he was leaving the city as much as Arthur

Of course Gwaine would make an excellent kept man-except that he wouldn't. Arthur imagined him lounging around the flat in leather trousers or a silk bathrobe, waiting for Arthur to get home. Not bloody likely. 

God only knew what he would do to maintain his independence, perhaps broker connections between people who wouldn't normally meet, such as broke chemistry students and drug dealers. Or was he more the type to lend Arthur's spare room to his loud and dirty friends, where they would get cigarette burns on the lintel and spatter oil paint? Was he artistic at all himself? It was strange to have such a feel for the outline of a person and yet know no details at all. Everyone else he knew was stamped with a number of institutional names, but there was no mark on Gwaine at all that said where he came from. 

Arthur thought of the medallion Gwaine always wore. He hadn't gotten anywhere the last time he googled Gwaine Greene; it was probably a contrived name, but the medallion had what looked like a crest on it, perhaps there was an answer there.

He sketched it out. Usually drawing was a vice. His father had actually smacked his hand the first year he interned, for doodling during a meeting. Now, he was glad for the time he put in as google images picked it up right away.

The Orkney Family crest

And immediately he knew where he had known of Gwaine before. There had been gossip at school, someone being sent down. It wasn't one of the places he usually competed against when they had games, but he'd seen the kid once at some bigger conference, the kind of thing where he used to run into Percy, everyone bashing around the field in their school kit like a bunch of colored marbles.

His hair had been shorter then, and he hadn't had the ease of the adult Gwaine, but the swagger was the same. Arthur remembered him because he had been fighting, fistfuls of the other boy's hair in his hands and his teeth bared. No wonder he'd recognized that face, even so many years later, because he had felt an affinity then. 'I wish I was you,' he'd thought, 'Fighting like an animal instead of playing a lot of games.' To a 13 year old boy that had seemed truer, somehow.

So Gwaine was an old boy. Well. He'd had the chance to end up where Arthur was now, more or less, and he'd turned it down already. What had happened in his life to send him skittering so far over the edge of where people like them would normally go?

Arthur sneaked a peak at him. He was chatting up the bar tender a hundred yards away. Guaranteed he wouldn't like Arthur to pry, but his fingers were already flying over the keyboard.

Research was much more informative when you had the real name. And Arthur knew a lot about searching legal records. Orkney was the name of Gwaine's father. Green was his mother's name. The crest was an old one, but the family didn't seem wealthy. Gwaine had attended a comprehensive for primary. The whole business with public school, showing up, fighting, being sent down, didn't begin till the year his mother remarried.

Ah a step-father. Arthur had the funny feeling they didn't get along. Following a hunch, he dug deeper into the father's family and uncovered a will, from the paternal grandmother, leaving Gwaine and his sister a considerable sum in cash but nothing for the father. Perhaps he'd been a near-do-well? Well, Arthur might never know. Then he caught sight of the firm that had handled the trusts. He knew that name. The person it belonged to, had also been at those games, he knew, wearing Arthur's same colors. Arthur picked up the phone and called in a favor. It turned out that Arthur Pendragon did have choices.


	8. Chapter 8

They were playing cards and Gwaine was cheating. True he wasn't pretending not to cheat.

"How are you even doing this!" Arthur threw down his cards in disgust and looked out the airplane window at all the blue.

"That would be telling." Gwaine looked fresh and easy. Arthur couldn't believe how calm he looked under the circumstances.

The favor Arthur called in had bought very interesting information indeed: The reason Gwaine was hurrying back to Ireland was probably the same reason he'd left to begin with. His step father was a rotton bastard.

It was a matter of money, oddly enough. It seemed His step father had taken control of the children's trusts, and spent it, according to Arthur's source, on a fantasy of high living: a large estate and expensive private education as well as a number of ongoing legal battles.

"It's all very Dickensian," his old friend had explained, "The step-father is one of these larger than life characters, an Australian businessman with a bit of an obsession with Burke's peerage. The guy is trying to prove he was the last descendent of some Baron or other. He spent half his step-children's money on lawyers." Arthur's old friend had scarcely concealed his scorn for the case. 

"I'm not surprised at the Australian, really," he'd said later. "Rub out a couple of generations and they're all criminals. The woman, though. It's one thing she gave her own property to this bounder, but the children's as well? It's a bad business, however no one's fought the claim."

It was too late to retrieve any of the funds that had been taken from Gwaine's account, but there were still a few days left before the statute of limitations ran out on the sister's. No doubt that deadline explained why Gwaine had been so anxious to return home, he'd gotten involved with Jorge. Gwaine was fighting the claim.

Arthur snorted. No Gwaine certainly wasn't much for telling. Sitting here, no one would ever guess that he was desperately racing a deadline to help his sister recover what she'd been given by their dead father, that he was about to confront his step-father and his own mother with base theft.

"Ah yes, you really don't let on, do you, Gwaine?" He tried to sound merely annoyed, but it came out more acerbic than that. Gwaine's back visibly stiffened. "It's just I don't know much about you." Arthur hastened to add. "I feel like I've turned myself inside out to you and you haven't said much."

Gwaine squeezed his hand. "I've heard that before."

"You know I snooped a little, I'm sorry, when you left me out there in the desert." Arthur drew the photo out, that he'd found in the rucksack from the car. "You had this one photo and very little else. Who were all those kids on the beach?" 

Arthur knew one of them was Gwaine's sister. Gwaine had the opportunity now to share if he wanted to. Arthur promised himself he would confess about the research he had done. He would ask Gwaine if he needed legal council, if Gwaine would just tell him that much.

"They're just kids I knew from Ireland. I don't know why I kept that photo out of all the ones I had."

That was perilously close to being a lie. Arthur had completely derailed his life for just the chance Gwaine might love him. He'd ripped his possessive heart wider to see if he could tolerate Gwaine's penchant for bed hopping. But the openness was all on his side.

It was odd that he wasn't more angry. He had never made so many excuses for Merlin. He'd finally realized that love wasn't fair. 

* * *

 

The question was: should he try to have Gwaine in the loo or not. Even in first class a tiny water closet was not a great place to get someone's cock up your arse, however lovely they might be and yet a quick hand job, well that was no way to say good bye.

And it was going to be good bye. Maybe.

Arthur looked down the expanse of the plane for Gwaine's chestnut head. He was still gazing at the not insignificant cleavage of the bar tender. Arthur chuckled. It was amazing how last chances gave perspective. That sight would have sent him into agonies of jealousy a few hours ago. Now he was feeling something like nostalgia even for the pure sluttiness of the man. Gwaine was right; possessiveness really didn't amount to much.

Gwaine, who had already shown 6th or maybe even 7th senses, felt his gaze and waved. Arthur resigned himself to getting what he could in the loo. 

He got out of his seat to check it out. It was a little bit better than average actually, and a sort of invigorating shade of turquoise; he could probably fit Gwaine on the sink and suck him off whilst himself kneeling on the toilet. 

No sooner had he decided that no, he couldn't do this, then there was a knock: shave-and-a-hair-cut. It was such a cliché Arthur was almost afraid to see someone else standing outside when he opened the door, but it was Gwaine, grinning and leaning on the wall as if it was comfortable. Arthur knew better now. Gwaine refused discomfort like Arthur refused to fail. Arthur pulled him in until they were breathing the same sanitized air, mind made up. Gwaine was brave and lovely and impossible and Arthur had to be with him one more time.

He didn't speak, couldn't speak for fear he'd start lying. He just peeled the trousers down Gwaine's legs and the ludicrous dingy pants until he could grab and suck at Gwaine's difficult and beautiful cock.

He pulled back again and again to feel the wide head flick at his lips, remembering what it was like to feel the same thing catch the rim of his hole.

He'd expected Gwaine to be impatient with that, but he just stroked Arthur's hair.

"Ah you're a sweet one, Arthur, bet you were a mamma's boy." He didn't have the heart to explain that he never knew his mother, just smiled as he met Gwaine's lazy eyes.

He saw there the words that hadn't been spoken before and it felt nice. He tried to file it away as untainted affection, tried not to think about how unlikely he was ever to hear the words said out loud.

They sat back in their assigned seats, reclined all the way back like a flight to Singapore even though it was only a quick hop. Gwaine rested his head on Arthur's shoulder, tight to his body, not a messy sprawl like Merlin. It was touching, just the same, and something he might never do again once he found out what Arthur was up to.

Thanks to his own interference, Gwaine might not make it, but Arthur was going to take the first flight back to Ireland and he was going to represent Gwaine's sister and help her to recover the fund from her trust.

The thing was, he doubted Gwaine would like it. In fact he was almost sure he wouldn't. It struck him now that he knew his secrets, how much personal information Gwaine had been holding back. And Gwaine, man of the masses, part time criminal, rolling stone would obviously do anything to keep his sister cared for and pampered back on the family estate, including robbing a dive bar, but if he'd wanted Arthur's help, he would most certainly have asked for it.

I'm doing it for your own good, just like you did to me, Gwaine Orkney, he said, because I'm the one who held you back till you almost missed the date. I just hope you still want to know me, after.

* * *

In the end it was so easy. He'd half hoped as he typed in his account number, his black American Express card in his hand, that there wouldn't be a seat on the direct flight, that he wouldn't have the means to get to Gwaine's home before he could. But he could. The only available seat was in first class, reserved for frequent fliers. Gwaine wasn't even entitled to the same lounge.

Once again he was driving a strange road through another country, but it could not be more different. He was not running away, but racing into the knot of someone's life. The phone number Gwaine had given him on an airline napkin made a slight lump in his pocket. He touched it now and then.

What he was about to do was big and the connection represented all too aptly by a cocktail napkin was fragile; it could all tear to shreds. He'd learned that with Merlin. He had to do what he thought right without waiting for guarantees.

Arthur peered forward through the windshield wipers. trying to see the signs for tiny walled streets that squeezed him through the villages and spat him onto the highway. 

The sun broke out when he got to Wexford.

The great house lay beyond the old town and far from the beach. It was a red Georgian. He could see why it appealed to a man who wanted to be a Baron. The place seemed to be cut with an exacto knife from some old Encyclopedia for a child's panorama about the era: red brick, symmetrical wings, understated portico. Only the fountain was a little awful. There were too many pooties in it. It looked a tad like a toddler pool. Arthur pegged it for a recent improvement by Mr. Rodney Hayes.

A woman answered the door. She had Gwaine's light brown eyes and his long nose, but none of his presence. The mother, Arthur surmised, and guessed as well that she was easily swayed by charm.

Sure enough she dimpled when he smiled at her.

"Arthur Pendragon, Mrs. Hayes, I've come at your son's request. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Who is it, Mary?" The voice was deep but breathy with a smothered Austalian accent. Arthur was surprised how large the man was who produced it when he appeared, at least 6'2". He wondered if he had beaten Gwaine.

"I was engaged by your step- son, Mr. Hayes, to represent his sister's interests."

"His sister's interests? I don't know what you're talking about, but I think you'd best put in a letter, rather than intrude on our dinner." Hayes was already making to shut the door.

For the first time in a long time, Arthur was glad he was a lawyer.

"I understand, of course. If it weren't a matter of time spent now, preventing more time and money being wasted in litigation, I wouldn't trouble you at home, of course. Mr. Orkney gave me instructions that he would meet me here today."

"Is Gwaine coming?" Arthur didn't miss the hopeful tone in the mother's voice.

"I think he should be here within a few hours time."

Hayes snorted. "Most likely he took the ferry to the bus, because he couldn't afford to ride the plane in from London. That boy can't keep money in his pocket. He wasted enough of it in this house. How do you know him, anyway? You hardly seem his type."

"I'm his solicitor and a friend," Arthur allowed himself a tone slightly more icy than was strictly polite. The money Gwaine had wasted was his own, as was whatever it had cost to purchase this property and all its pooties.

"Well maybe we'd better meet in the library. It seems traditional." Arthur was astounded how pleased Hayes sounded about that, as if the scene had switched and they were playing a game, the kind where friends have dinner and try to figure out who drew the card that said "murderer". He might be 6 foot 3, but this man was playing house.

They walked into a large checkered gallery where they were met on the stair by a girl. Even several steps above them, Arthur could see she was very small, thin, but soft with a mess of dark hair. He recognized her from the beach photo. This was Gwaine's sister.

"Mum, what's going on?"

"Never you mind, Freya, it's just Gwaine's business." Hayes did not speak as if he were afraid of being found out. Arthur seethed a little at how blasé he was, though he should have known, having committed a number of legal robberies himself, under less personal circumstances.

Mary Hayes felt it he saw. She flicked back and forth between her daughter and her husband in a way Arthur guessed was habitual, before climbing a stair to stand next to the big man. Well no doubt where her loyalties stood.

"I seem to have misled you the reason for my visit. I apologize. It is actually the young lady's trust that I've come to discuss. I'm Arthur Pendragon."

There was a painful silence until Freya descended 3 steps into the breech.

"Thank you, Mr. Pendragon. May I call you Arthur?" A girl that age should not have had such eloquent eyebrows. Arthur wondered what the father was like to have gotten two such feisty children out of the dithering Mary.

"Certainly, I'm your council; I wouldn't mind."

The library had a large view and plenty of mahogany but was otherwise not what he'd expected. There was a good breeze going through some very modern windows, filled with the smell of grass and a tang of salt water. There were not many books.

"Now then, let's hear this out." Hayes gestured to a table but only his wife sat before he did, waiting with her long thin hands clasped in front of her.

"It's quite simple, really," Arthur explained. He drew out the binder he had prepared from his briefcase. He discretely brushed a few grains of sand from it, a souvenir from Mexico. "The trust provided for Freya was intended to be used for educational purposes only and to be turned over to her by her 18th birthday. She has the opportunity now to assess whether the funds provided were spent in accordance with the mandate of the trust and in any case to take over what other funds may be remaining."

Hayes looked at him for a long time.

"Pendragon, that's an old name isn't it?"

Arthur nodded.

"But not a titled family, I think."

"There is something of that on my mother's side, the Norman Du Bois." Arthur said and he wouldn't have mentioned it, except that he had the feeling that Hayes would enjoy much more being raked over the coals by someone of rank.

In the end it did not take long. There was time for a brief rain shower and the sun to come out again before Arthur was obliged to drop a few ugly hints. He left the parents to sign the documents releasing Freya's money, dropping enough syntax and legalisms to shroud the original theft in a cloak of misunderstanding. He left instructions for Gwaine to file, though. It might be that they wouldn't even run into each other here. 

Freya hastened to pull him away,

"Did Gwaine really send you?" she asked. Arthur felt that she already knew, so he shook his head.

She laughed. "You must be brave. He's going to eviscerate you." She dragged him downstairs to the kitchen, which was low and endless, digging up sandwich makings which she started stacking into towering monstrosities.

"How do you know that?" Arthur couldn't help his wince. 

She shrugged Gwaine's shrug. "He's my big brother. There's no one I know better."

And yet he'd never mentioned her.

Arthur thought back to the parents he had left drinking sherry in some other wing of the house. He knew what it was like to feel closer to your sibling than the person who was supposed to take care of you before anything and didn't. He and Gwaine had never traded stories about their sisters. Perhaps they would get the chance soon.

He took a bite, even though he had more questions, his hunger getting ahead of his curiosity for a minute. There had been no stops on the way to Wexford.

Freya handed him a napkin and he wiped the mustard off of his chin.

"So how do you know Gwaine?"

"Ah, I met him in Mexico." It seemed best not to mention the kidnapping. Probably Gwaine didn't want her to know what he'd done.

Freya nodded, "I get notes from him from all over the world. He's always running, but he wants me to stay right here. I think he thinks I'm still a little girl. He was always so protective of me, growing up. He used to get me ready for school you know, no matter how late he'd been out with his friends. He braided my hair."

Arthur wondered what Gwaine's mother was up to that Gwaine had felt the need to do that.

"Any idea why he's going to kill me for helping you then? I'm very fond of him, you know and I thought he was fond of me, too."

Freya hopped off the stool and Arthur was forcibly reminded of how small she was.

"Gwaine never accepted our step-dad. He can't stand to be in this house. And he kept fighting till Rodney couldn't stand to have him either. He got cut off with nothing and he got all the prouder for that. I think Gwaine thinks he's still our Da's boy as long as he's got nothing under this roof, and sometimes that means not having anything outside of this house either, you know what I mean? He feels insulted when people try to control him with money like Rodney did, even if it's to help."

"But he wants you to stay here with your step-dad?"

Freya sighed. "I'm 6 years younger and Gwaine thinks I need my Mam."

She was very young, as young, as the girls they had dated from the surfer camp, but older than them, Arthur thought, in her eyes.

"We all need our mothers, really," he said. He'd certainly longed for that last resort of acceptance and affection these last few months after the break up, not that he would ever know for sure that's how his mother would have been.. "I wish Gwaine had told me and I could have helped with his blessing."

She opened her mouth to answer, but it was Gwaine who spoke. He was standing in the doorway with the folder Arthur had left in his hand. His hair was wild and his face was red.

"Freya, I want you to go upstairs; I have to talk to Arthur."

"Why should I go? I have just as much right to be here as you do."

Gwaine sighed. "I'll explain later, Frey. Just go, alright?"

"No!"

"Fine!" It sounded so much like sibling squabbles from his own childhood, Arthur almost laughed. "Just cover your ears, then, because I'm going to say a few choice words."

He advanced on Arthur

"I've just been upstairs and saw what you did. What did you think you were doing, Arthur, coming here, pretending I hired you, for fucks sake.

"I figured out why you needed to leave Mexico."

"I see that." Gwaine's nostrils flared. "And yet I can't figure out why you needed to follow me to Ireland. When I come back, I expect to find you gone."

He didn't wait for Arthur's response, just turned and fled.

"He's gone to the river." Freya said. "He always goes there when he's upset. He hides under the willow there or takes a boat out. Swims sometimes."

"Thank you." Arthur paused in the doorway. "If you knew he wouldn't want me here, why are you helping me find him again?"

She smiled a slow, heart stopping smile.

"I know my big brother. Everybody laughs with him and a lot of people fight with him, too, but no one ever helps him. " "He's not an easy person to help." She folded her arms over her chest, her body posture a smaller version of Gwaine's. "Gwaine's always wanted to give everyone a good time and everyone just takes it and forgets about him. You're the first person I've ever met who wanted more out of him than that. I think you must care about him a lot, so I'm on your side."

He hoped that would be good enough.

Arthur caught up with Gwaine at the bottom of the lane, not quite at the river, but in sight of it. He wondered if he would ever get to stand still, even if he did get to keep Gwaine, if chasing him down wasn't the same thing as knowing the man.

"How did you get here?"

"Freya told me where to find you. I'm really glad I could help her. I liked her." He hadn't imagined from his stony face in the kitchen that Gwaine would be happy to see Arthur again, but it was worse than he thought.

"Don't say that name," the man practically spat. "You don't know my sister and you will not see her again." 

Arthur put his hands up. "Look I overstepped. I knew there would be hell to pay, even just for finding out who you were.

"This place is not who I am" Gwaine's voice had recovered and was merely cold now. "At least not in a way you can find out from fucking google. And you did more than overstep"

"Oh you mean I hijacked your life in a maniacal fit of criminal theater?" Gwaine just looked away. Arthur sighed and tried again.

"I knew I could help you in a way that really mattered and I could do it quickly, but I also know you'd never let me if I asked. I'm sorry, Gwaine."

Arthur watched Gwaine come closer, as close as he had done during that first encounter, but ironically with none of the gentle warmth he'd shown for Arthur the stranger. "Jesus. Are you really so stuck on yourself you think no one else could help me? I don't need your help. My family don't need a benefactor. I take care of my own business. Always."

"You didn't have to use the papers I gave you. You chose to. You had them in your hand when I left you," Arthur pointed out. Gwaine closed his eyes.

"Don't remind me. Of course I'm using them. It's easier, isn't it? How could I deny my sister the best chance, possible?"

"But you think you shouldn't have done it."

"You're so deep in it, you don't even see it," Gwaine sneered. "That's how it starts, the favors, old boys helping old boys, next thing you know you're just like the worst of them. You don't realize; it's like any other gang. Once you're in you can't leave. Even if the only part you have left to play is expensive fuck up. I took myself away from that and you pushed me right back in. 

"You're angry." Arthur said it because it was true and because he knew it would prickle Gwaine, who more than any one Arthur knew made it a point not to be angry. Even now Arthur watched him force himself to slow his breaths.

"I'm not going to shout at you." Gwaine said. "I'm going to be clear. You're going to forget that you've ever been to this place or seen these people. And I will never see you again."

"You're going to spit me out of your life because I was nosy? Because I did you a favor? Do you have any idea what I gave up for you?"

"You don't understand. I left so that my sister would never have to know what our mother did with that man. I wanted to give her what I didn't have, a safe place to grow up and a real home, even if it was a lie. She didn't have to know. And you just spilled the whole sorry business in front of her, didn't you? It's just like the bar all over again; you've mucked up everything I care about and you're still here with that self righteous face."

"I don't think the girl I saw would thank you for her ignorance." Arthur said. "I don't think anyone needs ignorance. And who are you to always be deciding what the rest of us are ready to know? That's the whole kidnapping fiasco again, as well, you know."

"Just get out." Gwaine wasn't even looking at him.

"So you're not going to say thank you, then?" Arthur pushed. Because anger? this was his territory. He knew every inch.

Now more than any time that Arthur had seen him with a gun Gwaine looked dangerous. Arthur took in the grim set of his mouth and how cold the brown eyes had gone. He knew very few people had seen Gwaine ugly like this.

"I need your word," Gwaine growled.

"I'm not going to forget." Arthur was not a coward, not anymore. He went on. " I don't even want to. Seeing you, where you came from, making you livid, is probably the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Gwaine clenched a fist.

"You sick fuck."

Arthur shrugged away Gwaine's disgust. It hurt though because it had been hard to admit how hopeful it made him feel that he could get a reaction out of Gwaine.

"I come from one of those families you hear about where, anger is the closest we get to love," he said. He forced himself to look Gwaine in the eyes. "I know I don't have the right to take care of you. I can't promise to forget it, though because...because I love you and I want to know all of you even if you don't." 

He shrugged again, feeling the falseness of the insouciant gesture in his body, because he cared, he really cared and he was going to let it all go. Arthur allowed all of his affection to show in his face, in his voice. "So this is goodbye," he said. "I can promise I won't seek you out again, but I will always be available if you want to kidnap me again or have a pint or adopt twins or whatever." He turned around. walked away. After he'd gone a few feet, he called over his shouIder, "Oh. I don't need to tell you how to find me, I have a fixed address and a real job."

Then he walked away. Fucking beautiful Irish fucks, he thought. Arthur had run out of genders to avoid but Jesus, if he ever loved again he was swearing off some nationalities.

He called Morgana from the car on the way to the airport.

"Are you coming home?" she said. "Uther's anxious to see you but not enough so he'd cancel the meeting in Paris."

Arthur sighed. "Right. I'll call him first then." He felt the waters of his life closing up over his head. It should have been comforting, but the only good thing was that it was a form of suffering so familiar he could do it while the parts of him that counted were busy trying not to drown.

Morgana paused long enough that he knew she was about to be kind. Fuck. He didn't know if that made it better or worse.

"I'm meeting you at the airport," she said. "And then we're going to have a long talk, all right?" Arthur agreed. He was glad actually.


	9. Chapter 9

The flight was too short to warrant business class or its ilk. Arthur hadn't even pretended to get something to read. He sat back in his polyester chair and dedicated himself to reliving every encounter he'd had with Gwaine in exquisite x-rated detail. He didn't care if it made him sad; it was the best sex of his life and he was going to commit it to memory.

The scheme was highly successful to the point that with his eyes closed and his jacket strategically placed over his lap, he hardly noticed that the plane wasn't getting off the ground when it should, until the person next to him started to grumble and whine. That's funny. He thought. That's usually me.

"Oh super," the irritated voice next to him humphed, "Some idiot is running across the tarmac. We could be here for hours."

Arthur opened his eyes and adjusted his reality to include red nosed balding bloke in the seat adjacent. 

"Are the police involved?" he asked

"Look to be about 100 yards off. Here take a look"

As Arthur pressed his nose against the glass, the figure, a slender man in a grey suit was vaulting over a baggage trolley, a familiar looking canvas satchel bouncing in his fist. The story of his progress was clear behind him: toppled cones, a shuttle bus stopped on the drive with its doors open, and closing the gap a number of security guards, second tier Arthur guessed as they didn't seem to run very fast.

"Excuse me," Arthur pushed himself to the front the plane. If he didn't intervene soon, Gwaine was going to be arrested and then they would be right back where they started and not in a good way.

The flight attendants were all crowded at the nearest window to the door, gawping like a bunch of school kids. That was just as well, what Arthur had to say would go over much better with people caught off guard.

"Excuse me," he repeated, focusing on the round shouldered blond girl in front. "I can't help but notice that we are delayed again and yet at the gate no one would listen to my complaints that my business partner was not put on my flight."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but you'll have to take it up in London." She hastened to look back to the window. Gwaine was fast approaching, his chestnut hair and the burgundy shoes three points of color in the drab grey of the tarmac.

"Complaining in London isn't going to help me now. We'll obviously be here for sometime and there's no reason we can't accept another passenger, particularly one whose delay was caused by your..."

"Sir," she began, eyes flickering back to the window.

"Pendragon, My name is Arthur Pendragon." Arthur gave his name all the pomp he could manage, " I am a frequent flier on British Airways. And I can't help but notice, I don't have your attention."

She was getting flustered he saw. Gwaine was now at the front of the plane, gesticulating at the stairway

"There he is!" Arthur snapped his voice enough to make their ears go red. "I cannot believe he has been forced to race up here in order to make this flight. It's outrageous. First the hassle at first class and now this."

He lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"This was an extremely important meeting. I personally put in a word for keeping our investments in Ireland."

Perhaps it was a step too far. The woman raised her brows. She didn't believe him. He'd done the best he could, but it wasn't a good hand.

She smiled, a delighted little grin. It made her look younger by a dozen years.

"Who is he to you, really?" she asked, her whisper a little mockery of his.

"If he gets here, that's when I'll find out," Arthur whispered back, feeling like one of Morgana's little friends in their grammar school. It was oddly satisfying; he'd always felt excluded by their conspiracies. 

"I tell you what." She picked up the red phone in the front. "I'll tell them he's on the up and up, yeah? Does he have a ticket at least?"

He fucking hoped so. "Yes."

And there was Gwaine, 5 seconds on the plane and still sucking air, he was already reading the bosom placards of the employees.

"Marianne," he said, as if he hadn't gotten the name off her tag. "I see Arthur's up here causing trouble. Is he giving you any grief? Because he can be an arse." Arthur stared at him. He was grinning ear to ear, obviously enjoying the scene. The man had missed his vocation. He should have been an actor.

"Gwaine," he started as the man followed him to his seat under the flight attendant's watchful eye. 

"I thought you'd be more surprised to see me." Gwaine was leaning into his space, bag knocking into Arthur's face. All of his scruff had somehow reappeared and his hair had come undone. "Did I make it in time to get your vote for Morgana? I wanted to make sure you wouldn't cop out on me.'

"There are still a couple days. And I'm good for my word."

They were silent as the plane took off. Arthur looked at Gwaine, waiting. He would not speak first. He'd already offered all that he had; the power to decide what this was belonged to Gwaine now. It was excruciating and at the same time deeply satisfying to wait so fully exposed. He had never tried fisting, never wanted to, but he had heard some people describe it this way, giving all control of your pleasure and your pain to someone else. 

"I talked to Freya." Gwaine said finally.

"She put in a good word for me, did she?" Arthur.

"She said she already knew about the trust, about what Rodney and our mother did." He shrugged. She just accepted it, accepted him."

"Are you angry at her?"

"No, not at her, at myself, obviously. I should have known she would have figured it out, should have known she'd be strong enough to live with them even knowing. I couldn't do it. I guess she could."

There was silence again.

"Did you mean what you said about the twins?" Gwaine said at last.

"Yes. though I thought we might start with the pint first." Arthur felt something behind his breast bone warm. This was yes. Gwaine was saying yes.

"I never met anyone who thought I was capable of doing something like that, you know." 

Arthur shrugged.

"I see potential where other's don't. It's what investors do."

Gwaine nodded with his eyebrows raised, which Arthur took to mean that he would let the business language go for now. Arthur lifted one hand to cradle his cheek and said the same thing again, he hoped, with the silent gesture.

"This doesn't mean you aren't a pompous twat," Gwaine said conversationally, "Because you are."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I really like you." Arthur sucked in a breath. It was in fact something he didn't know for sure. "I thought about it and I think that I was a coward before when I turned you away."

Arthur stared at Gwaine, "You?"

"Yeah. Me. Righteous toff like you, taking all the risks. Put me to shame, it did. Can't have that."

"No, of course not." Arthur felt his shock beginning to melt into something more like happiness. "Of course you can't get away with the working class lines anymore."

Gwaine grunted. Possibly in assent, possibly not.

"But what about being dragged back into the club with the old boys, you know the vicious gang?"

"I think maybe I'm not an expensive fuck up, really, anymore."

"Well you've cost me a pretty penny so far"

"Shut up, Blondie."

"No but seriously. Tell me we're fine. I need to hear it. I know you felt violated by what I did, Gwaine. And I did it anyway."

"I told you. It's personal honor. You said you loved me and I was too much of a scared little moggie to say it back. I won't be beaten like that, not by an Englishman.  
I'm willing to forget about what you pulled back home. I kidnapped you. I suppose I owed you a trespass." 

"But?" 

"You can't tell me who I am, or fix me, or help me be a better person. You can't invent a job just to keep me employed or pay my bills when I'm not looking."

"OK"

"OK That's it? I thought you'd have more fight than that."

"Don't sleep with my sister."

"What are you on about?"

"You have conditions, well that's mine." Arthur watched out of the corner of his eye while Gwaine rolled his eyes.

"And would she look like you, then?" Arthur didn't ask why that mattered.

"No, quite the opposite, actually."

"Does she act like you?" Arthur considered this surprisingly difficult question.

"In some ways," he said finally. "She's more insightful and a little crueler."

"She sounds bloody terrifying." Gwaine leaned back and closed his eyes. "I'm better off without, I'd think."

"She's beautiful and she's off limits."

"Fair enough." Neither of them mentioned the corollary. Presumably every one else was fair game. For now, his blood moving in his chest again, Arthur didn't care.

Morgana was waiting around the first bend as they disembarked, looking exquisite and dangerous in black leather skinnies and some kind of floaty purple top.

"Arthur." She looked into his eyes and extracted from his discomfort the number of lies he'd told on the telephone. "Tell me why I shouldn't slap your lying face."

"I'm going to vote for your proposition?" Arthur hazarded.

She stepped back, eyebrows up. "Oh no, not really?"

Arthur rolled his eyes inside where she couldn't see it. Should he be surprised that Morgana wasn't happy to have her bluff called? He wondered if she would vote against it now.

"Fine, how about I'm in love?"

Morgana turned her scrutiny to Gwaine. Arthur was grateful that she saw him for the first time like this, dressed like a successful professional. Internally, he flinched at breaking his promise already, since the Gwaine she saw was not the real man and Arthur should not have wished him otherwise. It would just be so much easier if she didn't judge so quickly and so harshly.

"Ah, the kidnapper." Morgana flashed the smile that no longer fooled her friends. Arthur thought there was something toothy in it and Gwaine must have too because he winced even before she reached into his jacket pocket for his boarding pass. "Gwaine Greene," she read out. Morgana took a step back and looked between the two of them then. Their little group was an obstruction to the sea of people behind them,  
struggling for the exits, but Morgana took her time. Next to him, Gwaine shuffled a bit.

"You're looking at my breasts," she said at last. "Arthur's never dated anyone who liked women before."

Gwaine smiled and kissed her hand, "Well everyone has a little weakness, darling." Morgana raised her eyebrows and nodded at Arthur.

"Obviously." 

Gwaine guffawed at that. Arthur forced himself to continue scowling, even as his relieved grin threatened to shine through.

"Why," he said, "Is it that I'm his weakness? He's the one I almost lost my job for." Morgana raised her eyebrows again.

"Arthur, you have been the weakness of a surprising number of very nice people. Speaking of which. Gwen and Lance are here."

"Really? Arthur craned his neck. "You didn't get Gwen all worried about the day I was missing, did you. It was only 1 day"

This time Morgana really did slap him. Arthur had the chance to see Gwaine truly surprised for the second time.

"Arthur. I needed someone to talk to. I was genuinely terrified." She used the same hand to rub his cheek right where the sting was. "Sorry." He sighed.

"I suppose I deserved it."

"Well, yes." Morgana didn't elaborate. It wasn't going to be one of the times she held a grudge, and that more than anything told Arthur how frightened she'd been " I should warn you," she said. "I didn't remember to tell everyone you were OK again in time and it was too late for him to refund the ticket. Merlin came too. His flight was right before yours."

Merlin was here. In the airport. In a very small number of minutes these people and barriers would no longer stand between him and the person he once loved more than anyone. His first thought should have been panic, the same aversion to pain that had sent him running to Mexico to begin with. Instead, after the initial sting he felt a sticky relief. It meant Merlin did still care about him. He still drew his love, even if they weren't lovers anymore.

But what did Arthur want from Merlin? Arthur had known he would have to compare how he felt about Gwaine with all that he felt about Merlin, knew that someday he would probably see them side by side, but this was much sooner than he had thought possible. He hadn't thought about it; the wonderful thing about loving Gwaine so far was that it had made Merlin recede from his mind. 

"Well I for one can't wait to see him" Of course Gwaine himself was not shying away from the challenge. Arthur looked to where his new boyfriend was rubbing his hands together in anticipation, for all the world like a gladiator twisting his sword before a fight.

"Gwaine, is it too late to tell you my ex is also off the table?"

Gwaine shrugged. "I haven't seen him yet. Now that I know what she looks like I'm already regretting that promise I made about your sister."

It turned out that Gwaine alone out of everybody they had ever met was immune to Morgana's glare. Arthur was laughing about this fact and squeezing Gwaine's hand in gratitude, so that he hardly noticed when they got to the luggage round-a-bout and there they were.

Gwen stood next to a rucksack that he recognized as Merlin's, lovely and sweet as always in a yellow dress he had bought her himself, long ago. She had probably worn it on purpose. Lance, the person who had taught him what a man's beauty meant, even though he didn't appreciate it himself, stood next to her, straining anxiously for a glimpse of them. He didn't have his glasses. There was no baby in evidence. They must have left him with a sitter.

And there was Merlin, a little broader in the shoulders, his face a little drawn, but even in this awkward place open, gangly winning. Arthur still loved him. He looked at Gwaine, who returned his gaze once quickly, before turning to face the group. His face was also open, in it's own way. It was the face of someone who didn't have a price. And yes he loved him. Arthur stopped holding his breath, even as Gwaine beat him to the greetings.

"Well as I live and breathe; it's 1 2 and 3' he said, stepping in front of Morgana with his hand out to Lance. Lance, dependably polite, gripped his hand firmly without looking up for an explanation. 

"Who the hell are you?" Merlin, on the other hand pointedly glared at Gwaine, glancing briefly at Arthur and Arthur couldn't help a little thrill that he sounded jealous. 

"Me? I'm 4." Arthur felt his face fill with warm embarrassment. Gwaine had known then that he was part of the statistic, one of 4 people Arthur had loved.

"Arthur?" Merlin was looking to him for an explanation. Gwen and Lance were waiting for his word, too. 

"This is my boyfriend, Gwaine. Ignore the cryptic references. He's playful to the point of lunacy."

"Oi I'm trying to make an impression here!"

"Oh they'll find out about you soon enough" 

"I certainly hope so." Gwaine treated them to the smile like a search light he'd seen that first time, when he'd been part of the crowd that Gwaine was charming as he robbed the bar. Judging from their expressions, the look was having it usual effect. Merlin blushed visibly, eyes skimming over Gwaine's body. Gwen smiled under her lashes even though she was trying not to. The best was Lance, who openly bridled as Gwaine kissed Gwen's hand. 

Arthur wasn't sure when they maneuvered him into a tete a tete with Merlin. It was definitely a group effort. Gwaine had cornered Gwen, prompting Lance to hover while Morgana was fetching coffee because the time difference was a brutal 9 hours and she wasn't completely without mercy. That left Arthur alone with Merlin, sitting in the last row of seats before the doors that opened to the outside. 

Merlin glanced at the doors as they whooshed. Arthur wondered if he was hoping to escape in a taxi. It was awful to see him, awful at the beginning and also sometime that was approaching soon, but here in the middle it was lovely. Arthur hoped he wouldn't disappear too soon.

"So Morgana tells me that you were abducted in Mexico but not really?" Merlin spoke first. He could never bear silence.

"Something like that. I went AWOL"

"Your Da must have liked that."

"Well that was the best part actually. While he was already good and irate I told him I'd quit if I didn't get more input. More input and vacation time."

"Wow. I guess you can finally do some of the stuff you talked about. Good on you." A look flashed in Merlin's eyes. He remembered it from when they had first fallen for each other. Merlin was impressed and Arthur sensed in his gut that, despite whatever was waiting in Vancouver a door was still open there. Then the moment passed. Merlin's eyes flickered to where Gwaine was talking to Lance and Gwen and his mouth set little. Arthur felt a protectiveness towards the person in front of him he hadn't felt for a long time.

"I didn't do it for Gwaine, exactly," he said, knowing that even now it would hurt Merlin that when Arthur had finally stood up to Uther, he hadn't done it for them, for Merlin. "It's more like he got me in so much trouble, facing off with my father was the only way out."

That sounds like a story in the making." There was Merlin's open grin. God Arthur had missed it. He turned and looked him in the eyes, for the first time in a long time not dreading what he'd find there.

"I'd like to tell you. Come to the pub with us?" Arthur knew Merlin too well to miss the awkward calculation in his eyes. "And bring Matt with you. I don't mind. I'd like to meet him, actually."

"How did you know he was here?" Merlin sounded so indignant Arthur had to laugh.

"I know you wouldn't miss the chance to share Matt with Hunith once you'd paid for a ticket," he said. Merlin had always been pragmatic under all his dreaminess. "And besides," he swallowed. It was painful to admit, still. "I know he would drop everything for you, rearrange life for you. So he was bound to be here." Merlin nodded. He looked up at Arthur, that same stormy look that had stolen his heart. His expression was both more frank and less defiant that it had been before.

"He does do that for me and I need that, sometimes." 

Arthur sighed. It wasn't pleasant to hear, but a lot of the sting was gone.

"I know. And I couldn't give you that. I'm glad he's good for you. You deserve it." 

When Merlin looked up again, his eyes were wet. He bit his lip.

"Arthur, I'm sorry."

He felt his heart begin to pound unpleasantly; it was fine while he was the one apologizing, but Merlin's acknowledgement tore right through him.

"For what?" He was surprised his voice sounded steady.

"You know what." Merlin's little huff of impatience was the same as always. "The tickets on your ipad, all the crummy things I did right before I moved out. I did it to hurt you, at the same time I was pretending you didn't care."

"You didn't realize how much I loved you, not really." Arthur told him. Merlin's expression faltered a little bit. He smiled himself to reassure him and was surprised how easy it was. "That's OK. I had a lot of chances to show you and I missed them all."

He gave Merlin's familiar, slender hand a squeeze and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad you came to visit. I'm glad you're coming to the pub. I'll see you there."

In the cab, Gwaine swung his legs over Arthur and gave him a good snog.  
"What's that about?' Arthur raised his brows. At the airport Gwaine had been the opposite of clingy, giving Arthur room to reestablish his ties with the people who mattered to him. Arthur wouldn't have minded just a little more display, actually, especially with Merlin there.

"I figure Morgana's the main threat," he nodded to the front seat, and she's locked under a seat belt, so I figure now's the time to lay my claim."

"If you want my brother, you're more than welcome to him. He's done nothing but sulk since the break up with Merlin." Morgana's smile over her shoulder was as irritating as ever.

"Oi! Don't make me out to be a sadsack. Gwaine's accused me of that already."

"It's true. His date fell asleep before they could shag and he was relieved!"

Arthur glared in the direction of his sister, bonding with his boyfriends over his head as usual. "My date wasn't you, alright!"

"No," Gwaine whispered in his ear. "She wasn't. You're right. I know why you didn't want to mess with those girls. One two and three are really lovely, Angel. I'm flattered."

Arthur reached his hand under Gwaine's shirt to reassure himself that the man was really there, really his, circling the belly button with a teasing finger. It was a little mean. He was warm and Arthur's hand was cold from sitting in line with the rush of air conditioned wind at the airport. Even so, Gwaine arched into the touch.

"MMMM do that more." 

Anyone else would have winced. Gwaine apparently found the sensation titillating. That one thing said so much about who Gwaine was. He held back from nothing. Arthur felt the current of what he felt for Gwaine unstaunch in response. 

"You're so fucking strong. You take anything I can give out, don't you." he breathed into Gwaine's mouth. Their lips hardly even touched, but he felt Gwaine's heart rate quicken. Arthur started to turn then and there to climb on his lap, the cab, their destination and all the reasons for meeting friends, gone from his mind, but strong manicured fingers dug into his arm, breaking the moment. Morgana. Out of her seatbelt. She looked both fond and embarrassed, which was something he hadn't seen since the first time he told her he kissed a boy.

"Arthur, right now everyone I care about is still alive, OK? Do you think we can keep it that way?" 

Arthur huffed and fell back into his place.

"Seat belts?" 

"Yes, at least." Morgana was putting hers on as well, her eyes hard on Gwaine as he slowly, slowly clicked the buckle in place.

"You know I don't strap on safety devices for just anyone, right?"

"Yes, Gwaine, I can tell." Arthur wished he could have seen her face in that moment. She had sounded a little suprised, a little whistful. Whatever it was she felt, it meant that she accepted Gwaine, he was sure. It was all in the air, whether it could work between them, whether Gwaine could be himself in London, whether he would stay. But at least Morgana wouldn't be pushing him away.


	10. Chapter 10

What could compare with Gwaine at a pub? Arthur had already seen in him in the midst of a violent crime, eating grasshoppers and seducing 18 year old girls, all of which activities he pursued with perfect ease, but now at the pub it was obvious he was in his element.

It was not an easy group to meet. For the occasion, Morgana had dredged up everyone "Who gives a shit whether you live or die, Arthur" which turned up a room full of powerful, dissonant personalities. 

Mithian and Sophia were lawyers. Sophia was a lesbian, or claimed to be, while Mithian was more like a professional femme fatale whose law degree was part of her arsenal along with her shoes and lipstick. Arthur was fairly sure they slept together off and on. Gwen was a primary school teacher and Lance an emergency room technician. 

Leon and Percy were his best friends from earliest school days- Leon was gay and Percy was not, but it was Leon who was the taciturn, prudish one. There was more than one artist of both the rich and poor varieties who had come in with Mordred, once an enemy and now a beloved friend, whose father had been the mechanic for Uther's car collection. Gwaine had met and charmed each in turn.

"I think he's pathologically extroverted," he muttered to Leon. Perhaps he was a little drunk. He'd asked for Tequila, just to remind himself that this was real, that he'd met Gwaine somewhere; the man hadn't spontaneously generated behind the bar at his local.

"He certainly flirts a lot." 

"He pinched my arse." Percy frowned as he lowered his bulk into the booth with them.

"Really?" Arthur was surprised, but not jealous. As attractive as Percy was he was very, very straight. A suspicion tugged at the back of his mind. "What were you talking about when he pinched you?"

Arthur watched Percy's grimace and his stomach sank a little bit. He had no idea what Gwaine was going to do about the side of himself that Arthur had uncovered in Ireland. Flirting was one thing, but Gwaine had grown up at school with people Arthur probably knew. Probably Percy had remembered him and what was he supposed to say?

"I told him I remembered him from Rugby." So Arthur was right. Was he supposed to explain or let Gwaine do it? Would Gwaine actively lie about his background? It was hard to predict that kind of thing. Gwaine certainly had a moral code but many parts of it ran underground into parts of Gwaine no one else could see. God, no wonder he'd been wary of Arthur, so many things that had been dark would have to be seen in the London Arthur knew, or else be pushed under with the kind of conniving that was not Gwaine's way.

"What did he say?" Arthur asked carefully.

Percy shook his head. "He didn't. That's when he pinched my arse!" He looked so innocently wounded and the expression was so endearing on a person of his size that they all had to laugh.

"I get the feeling Gwaine wants to stay a dark horse for a bit." Leon said. Arthur met his old friend's eyes. Leon was a banker and a straight shooter. It was sometimes easy to forget that he could be intuitive, as well.

"Yeah, too bad he attracts so much attention, right?" He checked for the progress of Gwaine's flirting only to feel his hand on his shoulder.

"You talking about me?" he asked

"You know it." Arthur leaned back and accepted an upside down kiss. From anyone else, he would have found the awkward caress an imposition. He didn't always like to kiss in public and he didn't like to be seen to be awkward. Despite these handicaps his heart raced a little. Even upside down, Gwaine was hot.

"Ahem." Leon's cough was unmistakable; it had been disturbing Arthur's kisses since adolescence. "So you going to tell us the story of how you ended up in Mexico and found this character? We're all ears."

"Do you have a guitar?" It was Gwaine who answered "I think it would make a better ballad than anything."

"You play?" Percival had been known to cradle a guitar himself, all hunched over. It was absolute catnip for women, though Arthur had always thought it looked a tad silly. 

"You'd be surprised how many sins people will overlook after a sing-a-long."

"You don't seem like the folksy type." It was Sophie, carrying the rest of the group over. She gave Gwaine a look that confirmed Arthur's suspicion that she fancied men if she thought it was worth it. Of course Mithian came hurrying over then, in a little cloud of lemon-verbena and lavender, hand on Sophie's shoulder. Arthur found himself curious to find out who she was fighting for, Sophie or Gwaine. 

"I like folk music; most people can sing it." Gwaine treated Sophia to a full stare, a circling bullseye that took points for hips, breasts and mouth. "You prefer to solo?"

"I sang in my university choir." Sophia said, somewhat primly. 

Mithian snorted. Arthur heartily agreed with the sentiment. Watching Sophia trying to impress Gwaine was more irritating than anything else, but he could have done without it. 

Everyone was pulling up chairs now. Percy handed a guitar over and Gwaine sat down. Arthur sat on one side of Gwaine who patted the seat until Merlin slotted in on the other.

Word spread and everyone circled round their table. To his horror, his new boyfriend began to sing, eyes glinting merrily at Arthur.

Once there was a man who was running from love  
Pulled a run and hide maneuver  
Left Seattle and the mountain above  
Cos his broken heart lay in

"Vancouver!" They all joined in the last word, miserable traitors. Arthur knew his business was common knowledge to everyone in the room, but did they have to make it so plain? It went on like that for 10 verses describing in detail how Arthur had saved the wrong girl and eaten the grasshoppers, and all the rest. Each time his friends were invited to join in harassing him by singing the last line. It was truly awful and insanely brilliant. Arthur wavered constantly between humiliation and a strange warm sensation of being known and loved. When Gwaine winked at him, his gut settled and he joined in the rest of the last line choruses himself. He wondered how Merlin was taking it because it was a little bit about him too, about them. It was hard to know with Merlin, what he would shy away from and what he wouldn't. Arthur forced himself to look. 

Merlin had tears of mirth running down his face. He was red enough and hiccoughing a little; they might have been tears of something else as well. Gwaine had his hand on Merlin's shoulder, leaning in on the last notes. He was diffusing the whole tension with Merlin like a bomb, for both of them. No doubt he was enjoying every minute of it. 

He tried to catch Merlin's eye, so they could talk about it, but Matt was blocking the way. Arthur counted ten seconds before he worked up the courage to tap Merlin on the shoulder. 

"Give me a second, Babe, alright?" Merlin was already turning his way. His eyes were wet, it turned out. 

"So now I know what you were up to in Mexico." Merlin smiled and a lot of the easy affection was in it that they'd had once. 

Arthur rolled his eyes, as he'd always done. 

"Yeah, Gwaine's version anyhow. I come off a lot more heroic in the real story." He reached up and wiped one bean-shaped tear off of Merlin's dear face. "It's good to see you smile, though you might want to work on keeping it dry.." 

"I'm happier I finally had a cry to be honest." And didn't that just pierce the heart. 

"Masochist," he said instead of mentioning it. Merlin laughed and let Matt haul him back by the arm with some talk about shephard's pie as if Merlin would want to eat when he'd been overwrought like that. Arthur still knew him better. 

And with that thought, he turned to go to the bar, thinking, whiskey this time and bumped into Gwen.

"Here to tell me that I should be careful because Gwaine's gonna break my heart? He indicated the rowdy circle he'd just left, noting that Matt had dragged Merlin to a private table, away from the others not that he was checking. "Cos you're really not one to talk."

"No Arthur." She ignored his low blow where anybody else would have reminded him it was 7 years ago or maybe kicked him in the shins.

Gwen sat down next to him and squeezed his arm

"You know the sex between us was always really good," she said, very directly for her.

"I know that, Gwen, " he said, surprised. Perhaps one bit of heat ran through him; he hadn't thought of making love to Gwen in years, but it had been good, then.

"Yes but other people assume- because I went to Lance because you dated men after- they just assume that was the problem. So I just want you to know, I get it. The same people are thinking because you're on the rebound because he's a flirt that you're not serious. But I know you Arthur. And I just want you to know I see what he's done for you. He makes you stronger, I think. I mean you would never have invited Matt and Merlin like this a month ago. I approve."

"Oh Gwen- I should have married you first year at Uni when I had the chance."

Arthur leaned his head against her shoulder. The warm smell rising off her breasts wasn't any less comforting now than it had always been. Sometimes Arthur thought that he didn't ever stop loving people just that it had become private somehow.

Gwen ruffled his hair. "You're going to make him jealous." Arthur took the hint, and removed his ever heavier, ever drunker head from her shoulder. Then he shook it.

"Gwaine doesn't get jealous. He's a terrible slag, Gwen. I love him, but he's a terrible slag."

"It's OK, Arthur. I mean is it? You've always been, well, a little possessive." She glanced up where Gwaine was happily making Mithian's acquaintance, leaning close. His head resting briefly on her shoulder. He caught Arthur's eyes and raised his glass. Also whiskey, Arthur noted. 

"Yeah it's OK, I think. You know, speaking of squashing jealousy, I think I'm going to go talk to Merlin and Matt now."

"Oh I'm glad Arthur. He's really missed you." Arthur snorted at that, but he didn't turn away.

"I missed him, too."

He thought he did a good job hiding his stagger as he made his way over to where Matt and Merlin were seated, but his thoughts were definitely losing form and function under the onslaught of alcohol. They were increasingly sullen thoughts. Like how he really didn't think Matt was that grand. He was very ordinary looking. He had a trim, upright body but he didn't dress or tone it, obviously. And he was really too cutesy with Merlin, always looking at him for approval, every time he said something. Arthur had noticed their body language, even as he kept his distance. And Merlin patted his hand each time. It was patronizing, which was not a good look for Merlin. And why did their names have to start with the same letter? They were an alliterative couple, how revolting. 

He was careful to keep any signs of his inner monologue to himself, however, as he sat down opposite one of his worst nightmares and found himself looking at two people instead. One man was tall and dark and tired, with bruised blue eyes and a lush mouth. The other was average height, a little puppyish, probably someone who was spat out of an MA program recently and still had the shine, or maybe tree people were always shiny. His hair was light brown, eyes grey. As he sat down the younger man looked up at the older briefly, as if for confirmation. He received a hand on his, but Merlin's eyes were on Arthur. He smiled. God Merlin's smile. No wonder all the old biddies had kept signing on for dance lessons.

"You're completely pissed."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Merlin."

Now the smile became a laugh and Arthur joined in. "I can function perfectly well tipsy, not like someone I know."

"I know what you mean," Matt interjected. "I tried to take Merlin on a bicycle wine tasting tour when he first got to the Island and it was a disaster."

Yes it would have been. Arthur watched Matt and Merlin exchange a look over the memory. Arthur could picture it as clearly as if he'd been there, Merlin careening on the bike with his feet missing the pedals, laughing. But he hadn't been there. Right. He'd had his own life to live.

"So Merlin what do you think of Gwaine?" He should have included Matt first, but whatever.

Merlin tipped his head to one side, really considering the matter He wasn't going to go for a cheap shot. That wasn't his way, at least not until the end of their relationship.

"I'm surprised you tolerate each other. You're both used to getting your way, I should think, except you make the rules and he breaks them."

Arthur grit his jaw. A complete indictment, then and devastating as usual. Except how could it be complete? This time it was Merlin who hadn't been there, who didn't know all of Arthur anymore. Arthur leaned toward Merlin, needing him to understand.

"We're both fighters." he said first. It was true. They had met fighting over a gun and it was Gwaine who had provoked him into challenging his father, even if a phone wasn't a very impressive weapon. And they had kept fighting. To leave Mexico, to save Gwaine's family, to be together even though each had given up control he thought he couldn't do with out. "It doesn't matter that we don't go about it the same way. He believes in me and I believe in him."

Arthur leaned back. let that sink in. Merlin didn't say anything, so he added. "I don't think he's used to someone having his back, though, so I guess it is surprising that we don't clash more".

"Oh So that's why Gwaine gave up Mexico for you? For back up?" It was a challenge, their old pattern starting to assert itself. But Arthur wasn't the same person anymore.

"You heard the story Gwaine told; he was already trying to leave Mexico...and then he kidnapped me." Arthur shrugged and winked. "If he wanted to be rid of me, he should never have put me in handcuffs."

Merlin smirked, offense successfully deflected.

"Well you probably liked it." 

"I did."

And now Merlin was flirting with him. Arthur hazarded a glance at Matt; he looked slightly bug eyed. Arthur sighed. He wasn't here to prove that he could still get Merlin hot and bothered. He imagined Gwaine's eyes going soft tonight, while they laughed about this exchange in the safety of his bed and steeled himself to say the right thing to the person who had stolen Merlin away.

"And I know Merlin moved to Vancouver for you, Matt. He's sorely missed at home, but it looks like you're taking good care of him."

"Yeah, he waters me daily." Merlin was rolling his eyes, but there was no malice in it.

"Good then, I guess you've helped with the hygiene problem."

Matt laughed and Merlin kicked him. Arthur forced himself to lean conspiratorially towards Matt even though it would be much more fun to be cold and further antagonize Merlin.

"I mean don't get me wrong. I wouldn't lightly say of a gay man that he doesn't wash himself, but Merlin was always prone to think a bidet and a dunk in the gym pool covered it. He avoids showers.

Matt laughed then. "Oh my God, so it's not just my eco-nazi friends who got to him? I can't convince him to rinse off once he's been in the sound."

Merlin pretended to pout.

It's my hippy upbringing, OK? And don't encourage him, Arthur. North Americans are all obsessed with bathing,

"Sounds like you would like Gwaine after all. He enjoys roughing it in the ocean."

"I do like Gwaine, actually" Merlin's expression was serious.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I would tell you that I think we're going to be friends, but that doesn't seem to be a very select group."

All three of them turned to where Gwaine had started a line dance with Gwen, Percy and Mithiann. As they watched Morgana of all people started to join in.

"I have to admit he made me a little jealous when he had his hands all over Merlin." Matt apparently felt a little emboldened. "But now I see he flirts with all the women, too, so I guess it doesn't mean anything."

Merlin gave Matt's hand a squeeze and a kiss. And then as if that wasn't enough he leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

"I really think Gwaine's bi, babe." That made three winces that Arthur had to suppress, one for each touch and the moniker. 

"Oh of course. I guess I never met anyone who really stayed that way, outside of college you know, so I just assumed." Arthur had to give Matt credit. He didn't blush when he came off as an idiot. In fact, he doubled down a bit, frowning a little to communicate that he meant it, as if he weren't painfully earnest enough as it was. "So is that odd for you at all? I mean is it harder to be part of a gay community?"

Arthur smiled at Matt, just shy of laughing at him.

"You should ask Merlin about that."

Merlin chose this moment to check out, which was so typical it was almost charming.

"Oh crap. Lance is doing that thing where he waves his arms to call an emergency meeting and he thinks he's subtle, but he isn't. Can I leave you two alone, do you think? " 

"We're good, right Matt?"

"Sure, Arthur's good people." 

"Thank you, Matt" Arthur was not going to turn down Matt's approval, however crudely expressed. "And Merlin?" Merlin looked back, body already turned towards Lance, "Thank you for coming home for this, for me."

This time he got the hand squeeze and the kiss on the cheek. 

Arthur was left alone with Matt. Searching for Gwaine, he saw his boyfriend turn, attuned as always to shifts of people. Did he have tracking devices in that hair? It was uncanny. Arthur caught his eye and Gwaine threw him a kiss. Confident that he would soon feel his hand on his arm, he turned back to his old lover's lover and looked him in the eye. In his mind he was back on the Rt. 5 interstate, facing a looming sign only now there was no panic. 

"So Matt." he said, "I was in Seattle recently but I never made it to Canada. Tell me, what's it like in Vancouver?"

Matt's face lit up. "Oh Vancouver's a wonderful place, not too big and not too small. It's warm for Canada. You and Gwaine should come visit us sometime."

Arthur looked at Matt's friendly, innocuous face. He gave it 6 months, tops. And then Merlin was going to come running back to London where he could be properly insulted again by people who loved him. Maybe he'd take Matt with him, maybe he wouldn't. Arthur allowed a generous smile to cross his face, feeling sorry for the tree babysitter already. There wasn't a lot of forest in London. He said,

"You know it was silly of me not to make the visit when I had the chance. I think now that I get more vacation time we might just take you up on your offer."


	11. Epilogue

Gwaine looked uncomfortable for the first time when Arthur opened the door to his flat. Arthur saw it through his eyes. It was too high; it was too dramatic; too monochrome, too bare.

"There's a view of the Thames," he'd offered, pointing to the wrap around terrace.

Gwaine had almost immediately pushed his way outside, like the stray that he was, scoping out how far he could get away before he hit a barrier. But he'd been grinning when he turned around.

"I like to see the water," he'd said. "Reminds me of home."

Arthur held him by the hips.

"You remind me of home," he said. And it was true that Gwaine had made the place feel lived in again. Arthur liked watching him padding around in his bare feet and sitting on all the places you weren't supposed to like the work top and the back of the sofa.

"I don't know if this is going to be home for me." Gwaine raked Arthur's fringe back a little. "I don't know what's going to happen with us." He kissed the forehead he'd bared. Arthur held his breath, not because of the words, because of the hand tending to him. It was the first time he'd felt under Gwaine's protection. He imagined Gwaine combing Freya's hair like this, taming it into braids.

"I don't either," he said. "It's OK."

"Good." Gwaine's kiss was unhurried and softer than usual. "Do you mind if I change something in the bedroom?" he asked. Arthur looked twice but Gwaine was serious. He laughed anyway.

"I doubt it."

"Not that. I would never ask about that. Surprises in bed are good for you; don't expect any warning." He gave Arthur a solid smack on the bum that brought a sting with it. "I've brought something."

He went to the hall where he had his things and came back with his arms full of something cloth.

Where had Gwaine been hoarding this thing? He must have had a friend in London who'd kept it for him. It was a bright quilt: red and green and white, and so large it covered Gwaine to his face and still trailed behind him.

Arthur helped him place it on the Kingsized bed, smoothing it down till the bed was covered in a pattern of a dozen red pineapples.

"It's Hawaiian." Gwaine explained. "I got it from this Samoan football player I dated once. Bloke was 280 pounds but he had a heart like a baby."

"I'm surprised you have any unbroken bones." Arthur reached out and grabbed Gwaine by the hip again. "I may have to do an inspection for any lingering fractures."

Gwaine came down easy, no harm to any of his bones, and they stripped off and made love right there on top of the quilt, with the sun fading out till only the white could be seen on the bed. When they woke up it was already time to go back to sleep again and they were tired enough, after everything.

"Come under; it's cold." Arthur patted the space under the quilt and also under the old red bedspread that he'd had before Gwaine.

"Who is this nice guy?" Gwaine scooched under, ducking under the arm Arthur held up like a kid playing London Bridge. "I'm not sure we've met."

Arthur put his arms around him, feeling how he was hard yet slender. He tucked his own head onto Gwaine's chest, letting him be taller.

"You've met me," he said, "And you know all my friends. You've led a sing-a-long with my friends, actually. You owe me. Tell me something about you I don't know, from when you were small." He peeked up to see whether Gwaine would answer.

The silence stretched on a little. Arthur found he was almost asleep when Gwaine finally spoke.

"I used to live in a cul de sac, not too far from the beach. My Da knew all the men who owned the sail boats and he trusted us to play over there while he stayed up on the sand with the metal detector. He was always searching for something, my Da. 

One day when Frey was 4 and I was 10 we were playing at racing from boat to boat and Freya fell in. I couldn't get her. I tried but the current was relentless there so close to the mouth of the river and I just stayed in place like.

He came then, from 200 yards up from the beach. My mum always said he would have done better to have his eyes on one thing at a time, but he didn't and that's why he saw.  
I remember he was still in his heavy jumper when he jumped in after her. It must have been a terrible drag but he was so strong, he swam back with only one arm and her in the other. When he got out the jumper was down to his knees.

I asked him how he got to be such a good swimmer. I was afraid, you know, that I wouldn't be like him, that I would never be as strong, and he told me he was part Selkie. Can you believe that? I could never get him to admit he was lying. No matter how many times I asked; he told the stupid lie every time. And then along came Rodney Doyle and he was another story teller.

Arthur waited, but Gwaine didn't say anymore.

"I'm not one to lie." he said, wondering if it was OK to correct a man's dead father like that.

"Yeah, I know you don't have much imagination." Gwaine's voice came back and he was right next to Arthur on the bed, but it seemed to come from somewhere else in the room.

"You're not a liar either," Arthur added. "And I must say if you're part Selkie it explains a lot." He leaned over and discovered he knew how to find Gwaine's mouth in the dark. Gwaine laughed for a long time, then curled in tighter around Arthur and sighed before going back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Googledocs fried on my computer and so I can't link up the visuals. Hopefully we can work that out!


End file.
